As I reflected on in my last post, the writer of Matthew’s Gospel is intently interested in matters of the “Kingdom”. In Herod and Jesus we find a picture of two competing Kingdoms with two different types of Kings. with Matthew playing with these perceptions of power and weakness. The power that we find in Herod’s Kingdom is revealed to be driven by fear, while the weakness we find in Jesus (and John the Baptist, whom Mathew uses to speak to the nature of Jesus’ establishing Kingdom in weakness) is revealed as power.

It is from this repositioning of power that Matthew narrows in on the Temple and the religious leaders (Sadducees and Pharisees), criticizing the way in which their power (as religious leaders) has come at the expense of those who are deemed weak and lowly. This would include the author’s own story as someone who found himself on the margins and oppressed by the religious leaders of his day. As the Kingdom of Jesus is being established in their midst, it begins in Jerusalem, and the concern of the author becomes no more clear than in John’s initial description of the Jewish religious leaders in Jerusalem as a “brood of vipers”.

Brood of Vipers: Fields, Barns, Fruit and Fire
This language, brood of vipers, arrives in the tradition and imagery of the Garden narrative, where a “creature” becomes the personification of evil (death, sin, satan, the evil one). The viper was considered a dangerous creature, and attached to the religious leaders, stands resistant to the ways of the Kingdom that is being established. They are reactionary, and strike in fear, injecting their venom in order to protect themselves.

Now, this is definitely strong language, but there are a couple key, important points to note with about the nature of this viper imagery:
1. Brood is a collective term. It indicates an institutionalized problem. By no means though should we be considering the whole of these religious leaders as bad. They tend to get a bad rep because of the way they were singled out, but for the most part these were well meaning people who thought they were doing the right thing and on the side of God’s law. As becomes clear in Matthew, it is often fear, especially of those who found themselves caught between Jesus and the Roman rule (upsetting the balance meant that the freedoms that they did have could be taken away), that can be most destructive.

2. Second, Matthew is using the imagery of the viper to evoke a bigger picture. “Who told you to flee from the wrath that is to come” is a question that the author (through John) has positioned within the image of a farmers field at harvest. Once the wheat has been stored in the barn, they then set the fields on fire, causing whatever was in those fields to flee. The picture of all these snakes fleeing the fields would have been recognizable to his audience.

Likewise, this picture of the fields, the fire, and the barn is echoed in further imagery of the fruit and the trees that we find working its way (like a thread) through Matthew’s Gospel, beginning with John’s word in 3:9-10. “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

All of this imagery has to do with Jesus’ Kingdom first being established in Jerusalem, and the judgement of Jerusalem. The mention of Abraham brings us back to the genealogy, and the picture of the ax is one that is directed at Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple, with Matthew’s genealogical line re-configuring the picture of who belongs and who doesn’t belong as the covenant people. Who warned you to flee is used in a satirical fashion by John to indicate these leaders coming from Jerusalem, the very place that is being deconstructed (set on fire). Clearly this is not why they are there, but this is why John says, “don’t presume” your position in the Kingdom, for even now the fruitless trees (the religious leaders) are being cut down and thrown into the fire. Rather, “repent, for the kingdom is at hand”, the same words Jesus uses following John’s imprisonment (4:17; 4:2). Repent is a a turning towards, a looking in a different direction than one is currently. It evokes a repositioning. What is interesting about the way these words are used for the religious leaders is that they are being asked to turn and look in the direction of the Kingdom that is being established by Jesus, which is in Jerusalem, the direction they have in-fact come from.

A Kingdom Built, a Kingdom Divided
To further unpack the nature of this Viper language, turning to Chapter 12 and 13 can be helpful. In Chapter 12, we find this gradual progression, beginning with the “work” of the disciples (gathering wheat from the field on the Sabbath 12:1-8)) and moving to the work of Jesus (healing on the Sabbath 12:9-14). This leads to the Pharisees condemnation (12:2) and their conspiring on how to destroy him (12:14). This then also leads to Matthew setting up Jesus in light of Isaiah’s prophecy, which declares God’s chosen servant as the one who will “proclaim justice to the Gentiles”, and this servant will not resist or lift a hand until he “brings justice to victory”. In his (the servants name) the the Gentiles will hope (12:15-21).

If this is how God’s servant (Jesus) is going to bring about the Kingdom, against their resistance and not by the power of Herod’s kingdom but by the power found in his willing weakness, the question that then follows is “how will this kingdom stand (12:26).” Here we find a picture of these contrasting Kingdoms once again, with the religious leaders calling Jesus the devil (the brood of vipers calling Jesus the viper), and Jesus being declared as the chosen servant of God. Here, knowing their thoughts, Jesus uses these contrasting images (of the devil and the chosen servant) to a paint a picture of a Kingdom divided against itself and a Kingdom undivided. “Every kingdom divided against itself is laid to waste (12:25)” Jesus says, evoking once again the imagery of the fruit and the trees, the fire and the field. “Satan cannot cast out Satan”, because that would represent a conundrum, a contradiction, a division of reasoning and motivation. This brings the focus back on them labeling Jesus “Satan”. Jesus now turns it back on the religious leaders. “If I cast out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons (presumably their followers) cast them out (12:27)?” Let them be “your” judges about (their) Kingdom, Jesus says. “But”, Jesus pushes further, if it is “by the Spirit of God that “I” cast out demons, then you will know that the Kingdom of God has come “upon” you. Therefore, “whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me “scatters”, once again forming a distinction between the Kingdoms (the Son of Man and the Spirit).

Here, then, is the picture of the vipers fleeing the fire. “You brood of vipers” Jesus conjures up again in 12:34, either make the tree good and its fruit good or make the tree bad and its fruit bad, for “the tree”, Jesus posits, is known by its fruits. The positioning of this picture within this good and evil dichotomy is one that Jesus sets as a demonstration of “the heart” which is revealed by their words (with their words justifying them or condemning them on the coming day “of judgment”). The sign of this judgment is the Cross (the sign of Jonah 38:42), then picturing the rising up of the gentiles that God’s servant came to bring justice to as the judgement of the religious leaders (Israel/Jews). As he goes on to say in 12:49, the world is Jesus’ family.

According to Jesus they will turn (that ironic image of repent) back to Jerusalem only to find a house (a temple) being reoccupied by “unclean spirits” and once again making their dwelling that of evil (the viper as the image of evil). Which leads us to Chapter 13 and the parable of the sower (13:1-9) and the weeds (13:24-30), two parables that will set us up to encounter the death of John and the movement towards the Cross and Jesus’ death. After establishing the purpose of the parables as to give the secrets (the mystery) of the Kingdom to some (the disciples) so that the others (Jerusalem, the religious leaders) may not turn (13:10-17), Jesus explains the parable of the sower like this:
– Those who hear but don’t understand are snatched up by the evil one
– Those who hear and respond with joy but don’t have a good foundation fall away
– those who hear but the desires of the world (power, cares and riches) are choked so that it can’t bear fruit
– Those who hear and understand are those who bear fruit

And then explains the parable of the weeds like this:
– The good seed is sowed by Jesus
– The world is the field
– The good seed is the sons of the kingdom
– The weeds are the sons of the evil one
– The sower of the bad seeds is the devil
– The reapers are the angels
– The harvest is the close of the age.

In the context of the sower and the weeds, “The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth”, while for those who hear and understand, “then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” Therefore, Matthew says, “Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.”

These two parables are then blanketed by three smaller parables intended to explain what the Kingdom Jesus is building will be like:
1. A treasure that one finds hidden in the field (the mystery of the parables revealed) and selling all in order to buy up
2. Searching for and finding a fine pearl and selling all in order to buy
3. Like a net catching up fish of every kind, and sorting those fish into good and bad containers.

All of these parables are positioned once again, as we move in 13:51, into this picture of competing Kingdoms and the focus on the religious leaders and their tradition. The idea of new and old treasures implies that Jesus is establishing a new kingdom among the old, with the final “Kingdom of heaven is like” image pointing this in a definitive fashion towards Jerusalem, the temple, and the religious leaders/tradition. A scribe trained up for the kingdom of heaven (Jesus’ disciples) will be like the master of a house (the temple, which Jesus earlier imagined being emptied and sorted 12:45) and brings out his treasure (Jesus as the new temple) what is new and what is old (the Gentiles and the Jews, the lowly and the rich/elite). As Jesus describes in 13:31-33, the Kingdom will be like a mustard seed and leaven, which although seemingly small and insignificant, will spread into the whole world. And yet, in another great play of irony, “a prophet is not without honor except in his hometown (Jerusalem) and in his own household (the temple and the Jewish tradition).”

Using this “brood of vipers” language. Matthew recognizes that Jesus arises from the prophetic tradition that has both defined and rejected the author. What these pictures of the two competing Kingdoms brings to light is that while the Kingdoms of the world come at the expense of justice and at the expense of the oppressed, the marginalized and the week, God’s Kingdom is being built in power, but power that comes through weakness. As they awaited the return of God’s presence to the temple, this tradition finds itself caught between these two competing visions of the Kingdom, that of Jesus and that of Rome, that of their tradition and that of Jesus. It is for this reason that we continually find Jesus “teaching in their synagogue proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom”, and providing parables that they don’t understand, and giving images that distinguish between the Kingdom of men and the Kingdom of God being established in Jerusalem and in the temple.

This is going to be the Way of Jesus, is towards the Cross, and in the seeming weakness of the Cross will come power, power “for” the sake of the weak, the marginalized, the oppressed. This, as we will see later in chapter 21, is what will come to the forefront as we approach the Cross. At last entering Jerusalem, cleansing the temple (calling back to this picture of it being emptied and reordered), and once again conjuring up that picture of that fig tree and the lack of fruit as a matter of “justice” coming to the lowly, this definitive picture of Jesus restoring Jerusalem and the temple “in faith”. The same faith, as he says, the disciples (the lowly) have in them, to meet out justice and injustice and “move mountains for the sake of the Kingdom come, a Kingdom in which the tax collectors and the prostitutes will enter first (21:31).

This is a Kingdom that is like a grand wedding feast (22:1-14) where those who were invited (the Jews, the religious leaders) “were not ready” and “were not worthy”, and thus Jesus was sent (and sent his disciples) to go and invite others, as many as they could find both good and bad, only to be sorted according to many being called and few chosen. What is shocking about this is the chosen part, as this distinction between “good” and “bad” does not come by way of the Jewish religious leaders (according to the Law) but by way of the Cross for the lowly, the marginalized, the sick, the oppressed. What defines the good are those in bondage who find liberation in the Kingdom of God. A kingdom built on the greatest commandment, Love God and love others as yourself, a love undivided, interconnected, and wholly imagined in the Kingdom that Jesus is establishing on the Cross.

A few final words on this whole picture of the competing Kingdoms. First, when we hear of the end of the age in Matthew, what lies ahead, right in front of us is the Cross. This is the arrival of the new age. This is the judgment. And yet, what the Cross is ultimately a judgement of is the Kingdom that is being established. It is defining, over and against the Kingdom of the world, or in a way redefining for the religious leaders who stood in the long tradition of their people who failed to hear, a Kingdom for the least, a Kingdom that gives power in weakness, a Kingdom that gives love where there is hate, a Kingdom the gives justice (freedom) to the injustice. A Kingdom that is making what is wrong right. This is where we need to locate the hard words in Matthew. And as the Cross establishes this in light of Jesus, God’s called servant to bring justice to the gentiles, this Kingdom is then looking to reach back into the life of Israel and the Jews, deconstructing the temple and rebuilding it, and recasting it in Matthew’s Genealogical interest. In a sense, as I said in part 1, he is reimagining the story of the Pentateuch in the light of Jesus and the Cross, God’s full revealing of His Kingdom work, the same work He has been up to all along.

With this in mind, I am inclined to see all of these words as hopeful. Certainly if we were to read them as the oppressed would, through the eyes of someone like Matthew, these words arrive as hopeful words. Striking words in their repositioning of power in weakness (and weakness in power), but hopeful because of what the Kingdom is said to be doing and building in their midst. But I also feel like there is a thread of hope that finds its way through these words of judgment for Israel and the Jews. The heart of Jesus for Israel is clear. He weeps for them. And the trajectory is also clear- the Cross will condemn them in its repositioning of power in the Kingdom come. And yet all of this language, which is apocalyptic language (revealing language of what the Cross is doing in the temple, in Jerusalem, in the Jewish/Israelite story), becomes actualized in the Cross, and further perpetuated in the eventual (full destruction) of the temple that will happen soon after this. When set in the larger picture of God’s story, and certainly in the words of the Apostle Paul (see Romans), what we find in these words is a judgement, but than also something forming out of that, which is where I think we can find a picture of God’s restorative work “in” Israel, in the Jewish world and tradition. As Paul says, were they a stumbling block for no reason? No. They were a stumbling block so that this Kingdom could be established for the Gentiles. Does that mean that they have lost hope for their place as God’s covenant people? No. In this way, Paul says, all Israel will be saved. So don’t think all of this judgment (the fire, the deconstructing), just as they rejected the prophets of old, will be the last word. God is at work, and He is still at work repositioning power within His Kingdom, bringing justice and liberation to the world. Most of all, as becomes clear in Matthew’s Gospel, the greater truth is that on the Cross Christ defeated the Powers of Sin and Death that hold this world bondage, that given way for sin to oppress and ignore the widows and the orphans.

The imagination of this Kingdom is a reality, Matthew says, both one that has arrived and one that is still coming. It is for that reason that we can have hope.

In my previous reflection, I talked about how the author of Matthew establishes his Gospel in line with the Genesis-Exodus story. He does this to raise up Jesus as the New Exodus, not only in a retelling of the Exodus story, but a re-imagining of the story in light of Christ ushering in the new, promised Kingdom.

Matthew continues to paint for us this new Kingdom picture with the way he places of the stories of John the Baptist and Herod alongside Jesus’ ministry, first in chapter 2-4, and later in chapter 11-14.

In chapter 2, Herod is positioned as the one who is behind this movement that takes Jesus to Egypt and eventually out of Egypt. In Chapter 2, we see him devising a plan regarding the Christ child with the magi, eventually massacring the children when things don’t go his way, and then finally his death.

What becomes immediately obvious in chapter 2 is that Matthew is presenting both Jesus and Herod as Kings with contrasting pictures of power. One comes from a humble birth, the other comes from the assumed power of being given position under Roman rule as a “vassal” King (read: puppet). In his article called Power and Authority in Matthew’s Gospel, FP Viljoen talks about how the story of the magi underscores this reality. After establishing Jesus as born “in the time of Herod”, and locating Jesus in the way of the Prophets words, which state “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd^[d] my people Israel (2:6), we move from royalty and power (Herod) to the least among the rulers of Judah and the picture of a shepherd. This movement comes by way of the Magi, who come from the east to Jerusalem wondering “where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him'” (Matt. 2:1-2). Viljoen notes that the east is indicative of Parthia, Rome’s enemy. In this way, the Magi do not recognize the authority of Herod and place their search for Jesus above Herod’s Kingship.

Viljoen also notes the reaction of Jerusalem when Herod recognizes this threat to his Kingship. “When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him” (Matt. 2:3). This is something that is going to emerge for Matthew following Herod’s death as he narrows in on the Sadducees and the Pharisees in the fear they had of Jesus disrupting the Roman rule and leaving them in even more danger as a people.  

Fast forward to Chapter 14 and this picture of Herod, now a different Herod (the “ruler” 14:1), becomes even more interesting in terms of this question of power. Whereas chapter 2 eventually leads to John’s imprisonment and the start of Jesus’ ministry, here we find John in prison facing his death. Herod is once again represented as powerful and John appears in the position of the week. Only, the way Matthew writes this passage in chapter 14, it becomes immediately clear that what appears as a position of power in Herod is actually a position of fear and uncertainty based on John’s words (14:4), the crowd (14:5), and his own brother (14:3). He is far from in control of anything in this story, and John’s death arrives in his “grieving” (14:9), a picture that is immediately contrasted by Jesus moving to a “desolate place” (to grieve) only to be disrupted by the power of His Kingdom work (the crowds).

Contrast this then with Jesus’ words about John in Matthew 11 as John was languishing in prison and wondering whether Jesus was in fact the true King of the Jews. The message that Jesus sends to John is “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them (11:5).” This is how John is to know that in his weakness, in the lowly place, comes power. In Jesus’ death, this same liberating picture applies to the work of the Cross. Speaking to the crowd about John’s lowly position, Jesus declares “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist (11:11)”, and yet, “the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

This repositioning of power is now fueled into this proclamation, “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John came; and if you are willing to accept it, he (John) is Elijah who is to come. Let anyone with ears listen!” (11:12-15) If they are willing to accept that power comes not by way of violence, force and might, but from the lowly places, from the places of suffering, they will then see who John is, and thus who Jesus is and the Kingdom He is building. Although John stands in chains and in bondage, he is considered within the liberating picture of Christs work.

And then we come to Jesus and Pilate by way of this triumphal entry into Jerusalem, this movement into Jerusalem by way of a humble donkey. Jesus, stripped of power and now presented in front of the seeming powerful Kingdom of Rome. Jesus’ eventual declaration of power through the Cross (which comes by way of this proclamation of natural (supernatural) forces) is contrasted, just as Herod’s power was, by Pilate being revealed as powerless in front of the people he feared.

Two Kingdoms in contest, one in the way of Rome, the other in the way of Jesus. As Matthew moves forward in His Gospel, He is going to show how it is Jesus’ Kingdom that is being established in power, just not the kind of power they expected.

Here is the article on Power and Authority. It is worth a read.
http://www.scielo.org.za/scielo.php?script=sci_arttext&pid=S1015-87582011000200010

In part one I talked about how the Genealogy sets up Matthews larger concern for establishing Jesus and the new Kingdom as a Kingdom for the least, the oppressed and the marginalized, which is where he understands Jesus found him. The way he weaves the line is unconventional to say the least, and yet also set firmly within the writers own Jewish tradition.

Moving into the birth narrative, we can begin to see how Matthew uses this to now establish Jesus as the New Exodus and establish the religious leaders (the Saduccees and the Pharisees) as a picture of Israel’s long held resistance to the Prophets message of liberation for those on the margins. We even see this in how he emphasizes the magi (pagans) as coming in to this line in the birth narrative.

The Birth Narrative
Emerging from the genealogy, Matthew explains that there are 14 generations in all (1:17), a number that symbolizes the name of David which lies at the center of his genealogy (Abraham-David, David-Babylon, Babylon-Christ), and 3 sets of 14 names which reflects 6 weeks (symbolic of 6 days), which now leads us into the Sabbath week (Jesus).

So with this grand vision in place, we can understand the words to Joseph as redemptive in nature. “Do not fear” the angel says regarding Mary’s pregnancy (1:20), for “he will save his people from their sins” (1:21). This then leads to Jesus’ birth and the establishing of John’s ministry, where the baptism of John’s call to repentance, a word that evokes a turning of direction or turning to face a different direction (which is paired with the idea of the straight paths John came to turn people towards), comes with confession of their “sins” (3:6) and comes because the Kingdom is at hand, the Kingdom being established in this Sabbath week.

Jesus’ birth and John’s ministry then sets up Jesus as the picture of the New Exodus.

Jesus and John: Baptism and The New Exodus
Just as John baptized the Jewish people in water for repentance, he now baptizes Jesus (3:13-17) as the establishment of the promised Kingdom. This is said to be fitting “so as to fulfill all righteousness”, and it is here that we hear Jesus declared to be God’s beloved son, being brought through water (the Exodus story) to a new exodus (the wilderness and the temptation narrative).

This word righteousness is one that will reoccur in Matthew’s Gospel over and over again. It is a word that evokes a recognizable Jewish context, a word that shares a root word with justification or justice. It is tightly connected to the idea of a Israel’s hope for a restored Kingdom, God once again taking up residence in their temple. It is communal in nature. Here is a great link to understand the connection between the two words and why it is important.
https://kgsvr.net/xn/tsedeq.html

The use of this word “righteousness” carries with it this grand vision of the New Exodus, an establishing of the promised Kingdom through the promised Messiah raised up from the Prophetic tradition. And all throughout Matthew’s Gospel we find this sort of fulfillment structure (“and this took place to fulfill the prophets” 1:22) repeated over and over and over again. Everything that happens in Matthew is interpreted through a particular (and very intentional) OT passage as a “fulfillment”. And when I say everything, Matthew goes out of his way to do this. In the early chapters alone we see it in 2:6; 2:15; 2:17; 2:23; 3:3; 4:4, 4:6; 4:7; 4:10, and it just keeps going. Take a tally next time you read through it, it’s astounding the number of times this appears.

In Jesus’ baptism we not only find the image of this promised Kingdom, we find the Spirit (again, language the Jewish tradition and experience would have understood) descending on him and the Spirit sending him into the wilderness for 40 Days, 40 Nights. Given how Matthew imagines Jesus as one who fled to Egypt (fleeing the wrath of Herod) and now comes out of Egypt through the waters and into the wilderness in a direct callback to the Exodus story. I get excited every time I read this, because to me this interconnected image arrives with so much wonderful and liberating drama. What is important to recognize though as readers is how this connects directly to the Israelite story and the image of the Kingdom. The entire temptation story revolves around this competing image of the Kingdoms of the world and the new Kingdom that Jesus is bringing and establishing (4:8). So often we relegate this story to be in line with our interpretation of the garden story in Genesis, where we see the temptation as sin and Jesus’ resisting of this temptation as his righteousness proved and declared in his not giving into temptation. There is certainly overlap between what is happening in this story and the idea of sin, but this is not the full emphasis of this story. If you follow the opening narrative in Matthew, we have already moved from the garden narrative and are now in the exodus story. And what the exodus story is about is about establishing a new Kingdom over against their slavery, their oppression. It is a story of liberation.

The Temptation Narrative and The Exodus Story
In Jewish tradition, the Exodus is what they reenact and relive in memory of the grander story of God’s liberating work in their lives, and to push them towards the promise of a new future, a new Kingdom. Jesus arrives not only as a reenactment, but it’s fulfillment. This is the point of Matthew’s Gospel. The story of Genesis and Exodus are recognized as “temple” texts in scholarship and Jewish tradition, texts that revolve around the establishment of God’s Kingdom and the story of God’s dwelling among them. What the Jewish history understood was that God’s presence had left the Temple and their longing was for God’s presence to return and take up residence. This is what Jesus is going to become in the image of the temple being destroyed and rebuilt. Jesus is the new Kingdom and, in the important prophetic words of Jeremiah, God’s presence is written on the hearts and minds of the people.

This is the context of this image of the tempter (4:3), who is called the devil (the one whom we find in the garden narrative 4:10). the tempter (4:3) is the devil (4:10), bringing us back to the garden. If one understands the force of Paul’s own Jewish language, in which sin came into the world through “one” man (Adam), and death through sin (Romans 5:12), we can see him recognizing this as a systemic problem, a collective issue as it moves from person to person leaving nothing unturned (in the whole of creation).

And what is the sin that we find in the temptation of the garden narrative? James helps us to understand the root of the problem:
Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. (James 1:13-15)

Temptation at its root is about desire. This is what temptation exposes and reveals. And what does the tempter attack in the garden? This idea of true liberation. God has tasked Adam and Eve to be in communion with creation, God and one another, and the tempter suggests that they are not truly free BECAUSE “God knows that when you eat from it (the tree of knowledge of good and evil) your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil (3:5).” So the question is, understanding this as a temple text in which the trees symbolize a key aspect of this broken relationship the Exodus story is looking to restore, what does the tree (or trees) symbolize? It symbolizes life (God’s dwelling among them) and death (knowledge of good and evil). In midrash they understand this life to be found in God’s created order, and in the life of Israel. This is why God singles out trees rather than the garden (symbolically speaking). When set into the context of the temple life, what you have is the hope of their liberation, God’s dwelling among them (the tree of life, or the tree as the source of life) and the knowledge of good and evil (which is understood as the Law). This forms the later understanding of Paul in which his Jewish tradition, set in light of his encounter with Jesus as God’s dwelling among them (life), sees the Law not as life but as death. It is through the Law that we become aware of sin, and through sin comes death. And yet, as Paul declares, through one man (one tree, one cross), salvation (life) comes to all.

Just to reinforce this contest between life and death, note how the conversation unfolds with the tempter. As the Genesis text reads, “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel (3:15).”

What this does is set in play this key contest that holds the whole of the created order in contest- life and death, humankind and the tempter, Jesus and the tempter. This is the grand narrative we find being declared in the New Exodus, this wilderness journey to the New Kingdom. What is being established is this reestablishing of God’s Kingdom, and what is being emphasized in the wilderness is the “source” of life that lies at the center of this Kingdom, the dwelling of God in the temple that Jesus is raising up in Himself in the Spirit, as as the new temple. We will reside in Him, and in Him we will find the new Kingdom being established. This is why the reeneactment of the Exodus in the temptation narrative doesn’t move us through the garden, but through the elements of the Exodus story, with each temptation recalling a key aspect of God’s provision (food, water, and ultimately we come to this grand summation in the picture of the coming Kingdom, the promised land).

Here is what is most important though. If James is right and the tree of knowledge of good and evil is about the revealing of the “desire” of our heart, what is being revealed in the temptation narrative, in this grand contest, is the desire of God’s heart. God’s heart is for His creation. It is life giving, not death giving. That is what Matthew’s Gospel is going to begin to unfold as it places this contest between the forces of good and evil that hold this world bondage into the narrative of the religious leaders and Jesus’ kingdom that is about to unfold. Matthew adds to this temptation narrative that this happened “before the time” (3:29), which is super important, because the traditional narrative ends the temptation narrative with the “devil” (the tempter) leaving until a more opportune time. What is going to become revealed in Matthew’s Gospel is that the way this Kingdom comes, the way it is going to be reestablished is not by way of the Israelite story of conquest and failure, but way of God entering into our suffering reality. By way of Jesus, who knew no sin (the knowledge of good and evil) placing himself in bondage to sin along with us. This is how the Gospel will reestablish the source of life in the midst of our suffering world, one held captive by the toiling of the ground, enmity between our natures, and ultimately by death. Jesus is the source of life, not us, and in this we discover (or rediscover) God’s true heart for his creation. He is the temple (the image of the new Kingdom, the garden, God’s dwelling), and we dwell in him, in which traditionally the final thing to be placed in the temple is the idol, the image of God. We are the image of God, bearing witness to the source of life.

Here is a good further resource for understanding the Exodus story in Jewish understanding and the Jewish narrative.
https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-exodus-effect/

Moving forward, what we are going to see in Matthew’s Gospel is a very intentional, parallel placement of the story of John the Baptist, Herod (the two Herods) and Jesus, something that Matthew uses to emphasize the nature of the new Kingdom has set within the competing forces. For now though, what Matthew has established is that promise of the new Kingdom is coming. Liberation is here. This is the declaration of the New Exodus.

Personal confession time: It has been a while since I’ve spent some time with this Gospel. I’ve always struggled to get into Matthew. It might be the language. It might be the context. If this time through uncovered something, it is that Matthew feels and seems more than a little bit feisty, particularly when it comes to the way he positions the Saduccees and the Pharisees. And so I led with a prayer. God, please reveal to me what you want me to hear.

With this in mind, there are 3 essential things that I noticed about the Gospel of Matthew when reading through it again:

1. IT IS VERY STRUCTURED: One of the first things I noticed about Matthew is the structure. Even without knowing the context, one can easily see the use of repetition and key phrases, and the book feels like it is built on patterns.

2. IT HAS A LOT OF DISCOURSE: The other thing I noticed is that Matthew gives us a lot of Jesus’ discourse relatively speaking. In fact, the whole book follows this basic pattern of a block style structure: narrative-discourse-narrative-discourse (broken up in this way: 5-7; 10; 13 18-20; 24-25).

If one breaks it down, you get 5 of these different movements all framed around a recognizable question that starts the discourse, and the shared phrase that marks the end of the discourse (“when Jesus had finished these sayings”: 7:28; 11:1; 13:53; 19:1; 26:1)

3. AND YES, IT IS KIND OF ANGRY: If you set the Gospel of Matthew alongside the other Gospels, there is little question the author is particularly fired up. It becomes clear early on where this anger is directed towards- the Saduccees and the Pharisees. The Genealogy sets up the context, which Matthew molds around the Biblical figure of David, before moving quickly from Herod to the ones who will occupy the attention of his Gospel (the Saduccees and the Pharisees).

These three things stood out to me and helped me to engage with the narrative with a bit more intention. It is structured with a very real purpose, which helped me to distinguish the narrative from the discourse and the symbolism. It has a lot of discourse, which helped to give focus to how each block of discourse is framed, and the angry vibes helped me to note the direction of the anger and narrow in on Matthews very Jewish interest and very Jewish context.

And while Kingdom, Kingship, Royalty, and Forgiveness are all key themes in this Gospel, if there was one reigning theme that jumped out for me it would be this- justice for the oppressed and a Gospel for the lowly.

UNDERSTANDING THE GENEALOGY
Starting off with a bit of a strange lineage, which includes the startling inclusion of gentile women and an interesting list of names each telling its own story of how we get from here to there, there is a single name that Matthew instantly sets us up for us as readers to recognize- David. David is at the beginning of the genealogy, the middle and the end. And in between, if one was to look at the different names that are used to develop the lineage, you see this very purposed movement that skips certain generations, emphasizes some unexpected ones, and weaves its way through the story of Israel (Adam, Abraham, and David) in a creative way in order to raise up Jesus as the Davidic King, the son of David, the fulfillment of what Matthew recognizes as the Davidic promise set within the Abrahamic covenant.

One thing to point out about the Genealogy in scholarship is that there is contention surrounding the differences between the one in Matthew and the one in Luke. There are different ways that scholarship addresses this, ranging from the idea that one is false and one is true, to the idea of Joseph having two fathers (under the legal law of a widow remarrying). Sandwiched in-between are ideas that one is Mary’s and one is Joseph’s, and maybe one of the more popular ones which is that one is legal (royal) and one is biological.

In any case, no matter where one lands on a theoretical level, what is clear is that Matthew constructs the Genealogy with a purpose. There is lots to think about even in these opening words. Borrowing his genealogy from what scholars believe is 1 Chronicles 1-3 and Ruth 4, there is one really intriguing theory that sees Matthews opening verse paired with Genesis (recasting the words of Genesis in Christ), and given Matthews interest in numbers (part of his structure) also the pattern of 5, which fits with his desire establish a new Pentateuch (moving to cast Jesus as the New Exodus in His baptism).

Some more interesting stuff: Matthew also goes to lengths to write the Genealogy, which you can see if you compare it alongside Chronicles, in a way that maintains what is this 14-14-14 structure (the Davidic number). We see this following the Genealogy when Matthew explains the 14 paradigm (Abraham to David, David… and so on). The pattern of 14 also reflects a six week structure, which speaks to a Jewish custom (found in Abraham), which would traditionally be followed by the Sabbath week (see Daniel and the inference then to a coming Messianic age in Jesus).

All of which is to say, trying to fit this genealogy into a theory that reconciles all of the movements and placements Matthew makes here in an overly literal or historical way will miss the necessary symbolism he is trying to evoke. What Matthew seems to be trying to do is establish the Davidic King (Jesus) over all of Israel, working in a really interesting mix of women with questionable pasts, particular lines and remnants that say something important about this Davidic line (especially when set alongside the Chronicles passage in contrast), problematic moments in Israelite history, and a mixing of the line of David and Aaron (which is an important point in recognizing the Jewish context of this writing).

If you are interested in seeing in more detail how each of these names fits together, this is a good resource:
https://isthatinthebible.wordpress.com/2014/07/19/whats-the-deal-with-matthews-genealogy/

His lineage is a ragged, eclectic mix brought together in some creative, some puzzling, some intriguing, some mystical, and some obviously measured ways under Christ. But it is all in service to working with the Jewish backdrop the author emerges from, especially if we move back to this idea of him establishing a new Pentateuch. Just to underscore this, arriving at the last two names you get Jacob and Joseph, which is the same genealogy in Genesis, which then leads us to Jesus and a picture of Jesus coming out of Egypt and going into exile (the wilderness for 40 Days and 40 Nights). This establishes Jesus as the New Exodus. And then, as we shall see, this new Exodus is used to establish the religious leaders as the clear antagonists (under Law and lineage), positioning the New Covenant as liberating to people like the author, whom have been oppressed by the religious leaders, those who’s hearts God is said to have hardened (like Pharoah).

Which is all to say, Matthew’s Gospel begins with a good deal of symbolism that intends to say something very important to his audience and about the tradition he is going to criticize and the liberation he has found in Jesus. Although we have tradition, as is true for most of the Gospels, in truth the Gospel remains anonymous. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fit this into the traditional authorship (Matthew) and be perfectly fine. More importantly though is knowing what the text tells us about the author and why it was written. The author was likely someone who found himself on the margins of his Jewish culture and by way of his collaboration with the Roman Kingdom (which fits with the idea of the tax collector). This makes sense of why the author is so angry at the religious leaders. He himself has been isolated, marginalized and oppressed by them, and therefore finds in Jesus a picture of this necessary justice. If his encounter with and acceptance by Jesus is to have any justification, especially given his experience with Jesus was clearly transformative in nature, it has to say something about the Jewish context that has judged him under the Law. This explains why he bypasses the Roman context and sets his sights straight on the Jewish establishment, having zero sympathy for the religious leaders and far more sympathy for those whom he sees being oppressed by them.

As we move into Part 2 of my reflections, I think one thing that will keep becoming clearer and clearer is how sharp the distinction is between the language Matthew uses to describe and speak of the religious leaders, and the language he uses to describe those who share a position with him. This sharp back and forth between harsh judgments of the establishment and this raising up of the lowly and the oppressed is both sharp and notable.

I had three interconnected experiences yesterday that had me mulling over the idea of “compassion” as an exercise of faith. One was a podcast, the other a post from a friend, and the final one a movie:

THE PODCAST
This was an interview and discussion with Paul Gilbert, an evolutionary psychologist whom founded what is now called “compassion focused therapy” (CFT). In the interview, Gilbert explains the development of this practice as rooted in the following understanding of the world and human development- compassion as a working idea in nature, grew from the instinctual need for a species to care for its offspring. As we develop human awareness, compassion evolves and develops according to our ability to wonder, ask, and eventually locate how and where we can effectively “be” compassionate. This is where, as evolutionists would posit, we grow from a tribal perspective into a necessary universal application of compassion as a working idea.

The idea of compassion in this view is dependent on the affirmation that we have come to “understand” or instinctually know that we (ourselves, or our smaller tribe) are in fact better off when the world is a more compassionate place, and that the same instincts that drove us to care for our offspring (our survival) are found in our care for others around us.

Three things emerged from this for him- one, the reason we are led instinctually in this direction is because the most powerful are the minority and those who stand to benefit the most from compassion are the majority of the human population. Second, it is driven by self preservation, and by nature is a self driven, instinctually driven, evolutionary concern. And third, by nature of these first two realities, it remains predicated not on compassion as a given and forming virtue, but rather on compassion as a necessary human response predicated on our survival and the greater good of our species. It does not protect against forms of tribalism or power necessarily, but rather it drives our natural awareness of something we ser as instinctuallyus dangerous and a threat. We are compassionate because our instincts have understood its value in light of oppressive systems of power, and we are wired to know that if we do nothing, we and our tribe will also be negatively impacted.

This brought me back to when I was doing my Masters. When I was in the process of doing my Masters, I actually started in the study of Christian Psychology and Counseling. And one of the most startling realities I encountered was that, for all the ways in which the Christian faith expresses compassion as a given virtue rather, when we walked through the stories of those who were in the program with me, every single person shared and admitted how their experience of the Church had robbed them of their ability to find compassion for their own story, their own person. In fact, this is what had motivated many of them towards this program. They had been hurt and damaged, and wanted to find purpose in helping the hurt and damage in others.

One of the hardest parts of the course was the idea that the main part of this program was helping us to face ourselves. The understanding was that we cannot gain compassion for others until we gain compassion for ourselves. And so we were asked to go through counselling ourselves as a way of learning how to care for others.


My FACEBOOK FRIEND’S POST
One of my facebook friends posted yesterday in response to the tragic reality unfolding in Minneapolis and across America that, while he can’t fully understand what it is that people of color are experiencing, he wanted to find a way to use the recent tragedy to grow in compassion for their experience by beginning with his own experience of struggle and using that to form empathy. This was incredibly astute and aware, and had me thinking about all of the ways this is so difficult for so many. We much prefer to look outwards rather than inwards.

There was something powerful and revealing about the process that I was invited to go through in my first year of that Masters program. I came to learn that finding compassion for myself, for my own pain, was actually one of the least selfish things that I could engage in when setting myself within God’s story. Because the purpose of this process was to enable us to move outwards into the story of others. We don’t have compassion for others because it is good for us, as the evolutionary psychologist posits (that being our natural driving force), we enter into that incredibly difficult place of uncovering ourselves for the good of others. That becomes our motivation- a given virtue.


THE MOVIE
I recently watched a powerful documentary called Nostalgia For the Light. I’ve linked my review here and will let that speak for itself, but one of the most powerful parts of this film for me was the way it connects our discovery of the distant past (astronomy), our discovery of the recent past (archeaology), and self discovery (compassion and formation). What guides this, the scientific process the film says, is actually an innately religious question, which is why are we here? What is the reason for our existence? This is the question that drives discovery. And yet humanity has a very real tendency to engage in discovery for the sake of progress rather than formation, ignoring our more recent past for the sake of a future that is, rather, driven and connected to our distant past (which is built on the notion of survival). This future-distant past dichotomy is what keeps us from being held accountable in the present because it largely removes us from its responsibility. Through the study of the distant past we can shape our role and our responsibility towards the future. That is the human endeavor.

The title of the film, broken up between those two phrases, “nostalgia” and “for the light”, is built on this idea that light by its very nature represents “the past”, and that all that we see and experience in the present is rooted in the past, occupying that space between when it occurs and when it translates to our senses and our awareness. The light (discovery) is by nature an exercise of nostalgia, a locating of our present in the grander story. This what discovering space is all about. Thus, the purpose of discovery, which can be noted as a revealing or uncovering of the past, is so that we can be formed by it and shaped by it. But where it shapes us is within our human history, the recent past, the past we tend to most readily ignore in or push for progress, and it informs how we are meant to live in the present- what gives this life meaning.

We ignore our most recent past, the stuff we tend to want to ignore for the sake of the bigger picture, because this stuff seemingly bogs us down and gets in the way of progress. It is messy and hard and complicated. The scientists in this film, in this shared Desert where the distant snd recent past come together, eventually end up unearthing evidence of a genocide, something that forces them to have pause and try to make sense of something that is difficult into the bigger picture, that which is being uncovered by the light of distant past. This is where both the recent and the distant past need each other in order to find meaning in what feels meaningless.

The powerful truth about faith is that it calls us towards given virtues such as forgiveness, grace, reconciliation, and formation by nature of our faith in the truth that this is the work God has done and is doing (the New Heavens and the New Earth). The Christian truth says that God, the one who is being unveiled through our Discovery of him, is not in fact distant, but near and with us. He is the one that brings together and distant and recent past and helps us to reconicle the tension by placing it within a given vision and promise for our future. Where we uncover genocide, we find the infinite God broken with us, suffering with us, struggling with us on the Cross. This is where we find compassion.

The future is unveiled to us in the present then by way of His Resurrection promise, only it requires us to face the messiness in the process, to enter into the muck of our past in order to be formed in the present. And it is because Christ had compassion on us in our suffering, in our brokenness and in our failure that we become truly free and motivated to find compassion for others, bringing from the more recent past a greater and realized vision for our present. Finding and locating that compassion in our lives, and for ourselves then, can help us discover it in the experiences of others, and thus find meaning in how we move forward together.

Here is my full review of the film on Letterboxd:
https://letterboxd.com/davetcourt/film/nostalgia-for-the-light/

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— one Lord, one faith, one baptism” – Ephesians 4:1-3

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.- Hebrews 4:16

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.- Galatians 6:2

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience,- Colossians 3:12

Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.- 1 Corinthians 10:24

Traditionally, the author of James has been contributed to James the Just, (the brother of Jesus) and the leader of the Jerusalem Church in the Book of Acts. Certainly, outside of the question of authorship, we can find in the letter of James an interacting with Paul’s ideas, most prominently his discussions of works and faith.

The audience for the letter is a group of Jewish Christians (addressed to the twelve tribes in the Dispersion 1:1) whom are apparently struggling with certain trials that they deem opposed to God’s promise, and part of issue is that they stand divided among one another according to the Law, which has created distinctions for them regarding the relationship of (their) works and God’s promised liberation (as people of the Law). Included in this is an apparent socio-economic divide between rich and poor. Of primary concern is the fact that their current situation (struggle) and this division has led them to question whether God’s promise is true.

The author is deeply Jewish and familiar with their shared Jewish history, connecting their current struggle (their trials 1:1-3) to their prophetic lineage and entrenching it in the language of traditional wisdom literature (such as Ecclesiastes).

The author’s main concern is that his audience is standing divided, and that this division, born of their comparing their own experience to others, is causing them to second guess (be double minded about) God’s covenant promise. The author wants to remind them that God raised them up (as Jews) as the first fruits of His witness to the world out of poverty, and therefore they should find in God’s witness to them (their faith) a love and concern for others (works). It is by loving others, the author submits, that they can be reminded of God’s faithfulness to them and persevere through their trials. This is the nature of the wisdom literature the author employs.

Trials as Joy: The Wisdom of Steadfastness
Establishing the Jewish nature of his audience (the 12 Tribes of the Diaspora) and the reason for this letter (their trials), the author makes a familiar Pauline assertion in labeling their trails as “joy”. The reason trials should be counted as joy is because they produce “steadfastness” (1:2) through the “testing” of our faith. This word “testing” carries with it a sense of “bearing witness to” or “revealing” or “being made known”. The full effect of this steadfastness is a faith that is revealed as “perfect, complete, lacking in nothing (1:2-3)

What is clear is that the author sees this revealing as a gift, turning to a concern for their “lacking” in this wisdom (1:5) and encouraging them to ask God “who gives generously” without “reproach”, a word that connotes giving without distinction, requirement or judgment. The problem, the author posits, is not whether God is with them in their trials and giving them all they need to persist in their trials, but that they are second guessing the truth that He is. Rather than asking in faith (in awareness of this promise), they doubt (and forget and question this promise). The author presents doubt as the counter image to steadfastness, imagining it as a wave tossed around by the wind (1:6), a picture then applied to the doubter. Doubt leads to this sort of double mindedness, with the author suggesting that if we assume that God is not with us, we might as well not even ask in the first place (1:7), as we will find ourselves in the same position. Rather than seeing their trails as an example of how God is not with them, they should see their trials instead as an opportunity for God to be revealed in faith, not in the taking away of these trials, but in the forming out of these trials. This, the author insists it what can protect their doubts from leaving them “unstable in all their ways (1:8).”

The Humiliated and the Exalted: Steadfastness as a Forward Thinking Idea
The very nature of steadfastness implies a sense of direction. We are being brought somewhere, and our trials “as” testing have a purpose. The author imagines this as a form of a present-future liberation (in their experiences and struggles their faith is being made perfect, complete and lacking in nothing). The author now turns this unfolding admonishment to a concern for the socio-economic division that apparently exists within or around them. Here the Wisdom tradition emerges with a bit more clarity, with a call for the “lowly” brothers to being exalted and the “rich” being humiliated (lowered) (1:9). Just like the flower rises and falls, earthly (material) things will pass away. In contrast, their hope in this steadfastness is the “crown of life”, that which will not pass away (1:12).

To reinforce this idea, the author returns to the idea of trials as joy and trials as testing, contrasting this with trials as “temptation”, which is how the audience is apparently seeing their present circumstance. The author is insistent that no one see their trials as God’s “temptation”, because God doesn’t tempt (our doubting) and God cannot be tempted (our faith). How do we distinguish between the two? By recognizing the nature of “desire” (1:13). Temptation emerges from desire, which leads to sin, which leads to death. This is why we should not be deceived into seeing our trials as temptation. Temptation is born from desire, which the author recognizes as the devil. The revealing of God’s faithfulness in the midst of our trials (that He is still with us and persevering with us and that this world is being liberated) is not given so that we should fall away in our struggle, it is given as a truth that stands above our experiences rather than being dependent on it. The good gifts, the author insists, are what come from God, and they come with no variation of change (contrasting with the variation of the waves in the wind). This is the point of this steadfastness. This is the differentiation between the riches that pass away and the riches that don’t. This is the differentiation between testing and temptation. One if hopeful, one is not.

Their Jewish Heritage and God’s Faithfulness: Hearing the Word
The author now moves to consider his audience’s Jewish heritage. They (the Jews) were raised up as the first-fruits of God’s witness in the created world (1:18). This is what they were brought forth for by the “word of truth” which brought them to life and gave them their witness (to God’s faithfulness). They are called to “receive” this word, the covenant that has been written on hearts and minds (implanted in them 1:21) with the kind of “meekness” that declares life not death. Meekness shares a quality in nature with humility, the position of the lowly and that which the author calls the “rich” towards.

Here the author established the nature of “hearing” this implanted word, employing once again the Wisdom Tradition. The admonition is to be quick to hear, slow to speak, and therefore (by nature of these two things, or as an outcome of these two dispositions), be slow to anger. The inference then is that being slow to hear and quick to speak leads to anger, and anger is what causes them to doubt this word of truth. By being quick to hear and slow to speak in relation to this word, the righteousness of God (the word of truth that is without variation, the fullness of steadfastness that the word promises) becomes our witness rather than our doubt.

Only here, the author insists, the way we can hold on to this word which we hear, the word the precedes our faith, is to actually do it and live it (1:19-22). Those who “only” hear are led to deception, because simply hearing opens us up to second guessing what is true about God. The steadfastness that this “testing” (our trials) produces “reveals” to us what we have forgotten, and acting on the promise (in faith) is the best way to remember.

This is also the nature of the mirror analogy in 1:23-24, where they look in a mirror (hear the word) and instantly forget what they look like (who they are as God’s children). By contrast, by looking into (hearing) the perfect Law (the covenant word written on their hearts and mind, which is Jesus) they are led to blessing and “remembering”, which then leads to persevering (steadfastness). This is the Law of Liberty rather than the Law of Works. What we hear precedes us and is reality we already live in. Only the author insists that it is the doing, the living out of this faith, that reminds us of what is already ours. Our doing acts in faith, it doesn’t produce faith. And what is the doing? The works are “to visit orphans and widows in their affliction.” (1:22-25) This is the work of moving to the lowly places for the sake of those in the lowly places, reminding us not only of what God has done in our lives, but of what God is doing in the world.

The Israelite Heritage and The Work of Faith
Here the author does some neat things in bringing these threads of perseverance (steadfastness), Israel’s heritage, God’s promise, faith and works together. We are brought back to where we started, with God giving generously without reproach (without condition). If this is true, then show no partiality (be without condition) in regards to faith in this promise that they hold to (2:1), because if you don’t, you will become judges with evil thoughts (2:4), and therefore not much of a judge at all as they will remain bound to the bias’ of their own position. What the author is doing here is providing the connective piece between faith and works that can help bring them together in a way that bears witness to God’s promise (our faith). Looking back into their shared heritage and history, this neat argument thread is presented to underscore this connective piece. The question comes, “has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich (2:5)? And also, looking back on their own history and present circumstance, are not the rich the ones who oppress you?

What this means is that they (the Jews) are the recipients of God’s good gifts “as” the poor and the lowly, given to them without reproach (2:5-7). Therefore, find God’s grace for the world in your works. The Law, which has been summed up according to the perfect Law, is this- love others. Don’t show partiality in your love for others, because then you will expect God’s love to arrive with partiality into your own experience, and that will leave you doubting God’s promise (judgement) of liberation for both yourself and the world (2:9). Here the author submits them to being under the Jewish Law, which only reveals their failure to earn this promise (2:10). This is why faith (in the perfect Law) must precede works. The works don’t determine the promise, they simply remind us of the promise (faith) of our liberty. “So speak and so act as those who are to be judged under the Law of Liberty (2:12).

So What Good is Faith Without Works
What good then is faith without works? If this faith isn’t leading somewhere, towards liberty, why then have faith? After all, without faith all we have is death (2:17), so a faith without promise (direction) is nothing more than death. In contrast, faith that leads somewhere is a belief (faith) that is completed. This is what our works point us towards and remind us of. They speak love into those spaces where love has been forgotten, hope where hope has been forgotten. The faith we hold becomes aware and justified in our witness (works) (2:24).

Doubling down on this, the author points out a further distinction between Law and grace (without partiality). Those who teach are most aware of the Law (in their Jewish context), and when you are aware of the Law you become aware of your own stumbling, and thus you are set under greater judgment by nature of this awareness (3:1-2). You can try and say you are perfect under the Law and thus deserving of something better than your present trials (which leads to the trials being evidence of God’s lack of promise), but the Law just proves that you are not (3:2).

It is for this reason then that we should remain aware of how powerful the tongue is, given the words they confess to and the way those words reveal the desires and content of the heart (leading to a piece on the power of the tongue). By trying to present our works as the means by which we should be distinguished within our social and economic positioning (the rich and the lowly), this tongue then blesses God and curses those made in the likeness of God at the same time (double mindedness), and this ought not to be so (3:11). This language of blessings and curses is familiar to the the Israelite history, and something they would have understood very clearly in their context. This is the very paradigm that we find in their own story as God’s people, with God throughout the Israelite story trying to pull them out this way of thinking. In 4:11-12, the author moves to show once again that when you “teach” the law as a means of judging others according to their position under the Law (according to works), you judge yourself, and whoever knows the right thing and fails, that becomes their sin (judgment) under the Law (4:17). This cannot lead to liberty.

Therefore, because wisdom is meekness (3:13), don’t let your tongues boast of falsehoods when you in fact have jealousy and selfishness in your hearts (concerned for your position in the midst of trials, and comparing your position to others). Jealousy and selfishness leads to (earthly and material) ambitions and disorder, which is from the Devil, not God, just as temptation is from the Devil. What God’s promise is about is liberty and hope, not the idea that these trials exist as a judgment or a means of failing. Testing, in faith, is a forming work, not a condemning one.

The Measure of Desire
Now the author brings this all back to this measure of desire when trying to distinguish between testing and temptation. The reason, the author says, you do not ask God (in faith) for the good gifts is because your passions are at war within you (4:1), and this war of passions all begins with the desire of your heart. As it is said, God gives and you spend it on your passions (4:3), which only leads you to doubt whether God’s promise (the good gifts) is true. Friendship with the world, the measure of this desire, is enmity with God, the author insists. You say you are God’s people but are acting opposed to his desire for you and the world. This is why grace comes to the humble (4:5-6) and why testing reveals that promise for the purpose of steadfastness, because when you live in ways that don’t reveal a different reality to the world, you forget the promise yourself. Therefore, submit to God and resist the Devil (4:7). And what distinguishes God from the Devil? The unwavering promise versus the ever changing doubt (thinking that this promise is not longer true), love versus showing partiality to others, attending to the lowly rather than becoming rich.

And here’s the picture we gain from the Letter of James. Draw near to God and God draws near to you (4:8). This is how we remember the promise that God is leading this somewhere, and that we are being formed out of our struggle. This is the picture of the humility we are asked to lean into rather than trying to position ourselves in comparison to others according to our circumstance (4:10). In this conversation of faith and works, there is only one lawgiver and judge (God), the one who is able to save and destroy. And the one lawgiver is moving us in love and liberty. Therefore, don’t worry about tomorrow, but rather lean into the faith (promise) we have been given today. Because when we fail to do this, it is sin, and it positions us within our doubts, and all we are then left with is a directionless life, one that leads to death (which is a world that is left to its struggle without liberation). This is the proclamation of the Ecclesiastical Wisdom in 4:13-15.

This is perhaps most pertinent when it comes to this socio-economic division between rich and poor. This is why we find in the final chapter a warning to the rich, which unfolds as a call to humility. It paints a picture of those enjoying riches and pleasures while others are oppressed and have no means of enacting justice for themselves (5:11). If God is a liberating and loving God, this is the work that we must be engaged in, regardless of our own circumstance. And the reason for this is because the lowly are the righteous in the Kingdom of God, and the riches that do not fade are based on love and humility, not that which leads to earthly riches. This comes back to the book’s audience needing to be reminded about the lowly places that God’s love found them (all) in within their history. This is a reshaping of their understanding of their struggles (and their understanding of Israel’s struggle). Rather than seeing it is a picture of God’s failure, the author raises this up as a picture of God’s promise and faith. The call to have patience in suffering is actually an encouragement to the oppressed. Patience is a blessing and a revealing (5:11), a hopeful and life giving venture.

So (reaching back into the Israelite tradition), don’t be divided by the Law (5:9), because then you will just judge yourselves. The one who can bring justice (the one who has the power to save and destroy… the one lawgiver) is coming. This is your and our faith, so trust in this (5:8;5:9). And if you forget this, look to your own tradition (the prophets) as an example of this patience in suffering (5:10). Just as Elijah was a man fallible (doubting like them), he prayed for the oppressed and it was given in his righteounsess (his right positioning, his trusting in faith rather than doubting it, a trusting that came from acting on it). So do the same, sick and healthy together, the suffering and the cheerful together. Help one another out. For whenever we bring back a wanderer (one who is doubting), we save our own soul from death (we remind ourselves of the promise of God’s liberating promise) and cover a multitude of sins (doubt, evil thoughts, actions that do not come in love, partiality). Here the author is talking about spiritual death, a living as if there is no grace versus living like there is. God’s declaration is that grace breaks through our trials in a way that is forming us into this promise of a future where this suffering will give way to liberation. Therefore, coming back to the idea of asking for good gifts in faith not doubt, let your yes be yes and your no be no. Don’t swear to any other promise than the promise of God’s liberation (5:12). This is the direction to which the prayer for faith points.

The Book of Hebrews has been notorious in the field of Biblical scholarship for being difficult to pin down in modern language. Entrenched in the language of it’s ancient Jewish culture, the anonymity of both it’s author and it’s audience ends up being both a blessing and a curse (if I can borrow the Biblical language of ancient Israel). In some ways it allows us as readers to apply a degree of imagination to the book on a contextual level. On the other hand, the heavy language can make it feel a bit distanced and anchored in a time and place foreign to modern ears.

There are New Testament books that I read more often than others, and with the above in mind, Hebrews is one that I sometimes pass over (in my rush to get to something like Paul’s letter to the Philippians). That is probably why I left this to near last on my journey through the New Testament (with James and the Gospel of Matthew, two other books I tend to not come back to as often for similar reasons). I’m really happy I found space for it again though. My prayer going into it was that God would help me to see it afresh, and I found the book coming alive to me in ways that it hasn’t in the past.

In terms of the book’s anonymity, there are two distinctives that help set Hebrews apart- it’s high Christology, and it’s intimate understanding of the Jewish sacrificial system, two things that the author is trying to bring together. The book was likely written to a group of Jewish Christians, although all we really know is that both author and audience shared a mutual friend in Timothy. In terms of this interest in the marriage of this high Christology and the Jewish sacrificial system, the author is looking to help the readers understand both their heritage and how Christ fits into this heritage. The book wants to establish Jesus, not the Temple (or the Priestly Law), as the founder of their faith. It reads, “Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil”, going on to say “he had to be made like the brothers in every respect, so that he (we) might have a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people (2:14-18).” Propitiation carries with it this notion of “giving” and affording something to us, which is God’s mercy and his faithfulness in the midst of our shared suffering (which comes by way of Jesus sharing in our suffering), which, after being given to us (for the purification of sins 1:3), reveals these grand “Christ is” statements (our confidence):
Christ “is” the superior name (1:4), the beginning and the end (1:8-12), God’s saving work (1:13), the exact imprint of God’s nature (1:3).

This is the concern for the witness that the author of Hebrews is interested in establishing (of the work of Jesus) within their Jewish Heritage, beginning his letter with “long ago”, “at many time and in many ways” God spoke by the prophets, and now Jesus (1:1-2)”, leading up to the grand witnesses of Jewish history in Chapter 11 which “received” this propitiation (11:2) by faith. “Therefore”, the author says, “since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith.”

After all, the Priests give gifts (propitiate) according to the Law (according to the covenant promise 9:4), but they “serve a copy and a shadow of the heavenly things (9:5).” What Christ has “obtained” (9:6), that which he looks to give (propitiate to us), is a much more excellent covenant than the old one. Evoking Jeremiah, the author recognizes something similar as the Apostle Paul (albeit with a slightly different edge), which is that the Law was given to expose Sin (Israel’s failure to live into the promise of God in the rejection of the prophets) and reveal Christ (God’s giving of the promise in their failure). Instead of the shadow, they will have this covenant promise written on their minds and hearts (9:8-12).

This is the truth the author wants them to hear, to pay close attention to (2:1), the truth that the angels, God’s servants (1:14) have born witness to as well. If all we see is the shadow, how can we live into the promise of the full revealing? If the Law only reveals Sin (as the just retribution of every transgression or disobedience), how then can we escape the shadow if we neglect what has been given (Christ’s propitiation, which is the full revealing of God’s mercy and faithfulness written on our hearts and minds 2:2-3)?

What I really love about Hebrews is how it brings in a necessary theology of Creation as well. Christ is Lord of the whole of the created world, and the world, which has been swept up into the same covenant promise, is under the same bondage (Sin and Death). The author then uses Psalm 8:4-6 to unfold a contrasting image of the shadow (the Law) and the light (Christ) within this created order. The contrast is one of question (doubt) and control (faith). Like we see elsewhere in the New Testament, one of the struggles of Jewish Christians was the struggle they faced looking back on their history and their ongoing struggle. Their failure, in their eyes, also meant the they would not find God’s covenant promise. The promise for their liberation as Gods children had failed. And yet, in their suffering, in their failure, God has left nothing outside of his control (2:8), even if we only see the failure of this promise in our present struggle. Rather than the shadow, we can now see Him (Jesus), who entered into our suffering to reveal the new covenant to them in their suffering (failed) reality, which is the promise that they are being made new and will be made new in their suffering. It is Christ’s suffering, then, that is the “perfection”, not the letter of the “Law” (2:10). In setting himself under the Power of Sin (in subjection to), the Power of Sin and Death was defeated (2:14) and those in bondage (in question and wait of God’s promise to liberate their situation) were and are being liberated (2:15) . The shame that the Hebrew audience feels in their failure gives way to Jesus’ declaration that they are in fact God’s children (2:11-13), because Jesus understands the suffering, the same suffering we face, under the Power of Sin and Death (2:18

What we have been given, what has been propitiated to us, is a heavenly calling, one which we share in Jesus (3:1). That is why the Hebrews authors call them to consider Jesus (3:1), the one they find in their confession as “Jewish Christians”. If Moses is a witness to God’s building project (the spiritual house), then Jesus is the builder. (3:3-4). Moses was a servant, Christ is God’s Son, and as Sons and Daughters of God we are all God’s house (3:5-6). This is our hope. This is the New Covenant.

Here the author connects Jesus’ resisting temptation in the suffering he faced under the Power of Sin and Death (in the wilderness and on the Cross) to the Israelites in the wilderness with Moses, thus bringing his readers together in Moses and Jesus (3:7-11). This becomes a continued exposition of Psalm 95:7-11 (3:15 and 4:3; 4:5; 4:7), with the call to not fall away (as the Prophets did) and be given to a different confession (3:14). Instead, rest (from their worries about where God is in their midst) in the promise that they find in Jesus (3:18). This rest has a sweeping force, reaching back into those who died (rest), and applied to their present situation (4:7) in the hope of what Christ is doing and bringing to fruition, His works (the building of thos house) which were finished from the “foundation of the world” (4:3). For, if Joshua had given them rest, Jesus could not have come for the world (4:8).

Moving to apply this to their life in Christ, the author of Hebrews then moves to say, let us (therefore) work “now” for the sake of all (4:11), knowing that the word of God is “living” and “active” (still at work) healing the division that Sin and Death creates (4:12). After all, coming back to that theology of creation, no creature is hidden from his sight (all are naked and exposed to him to whom we must give account 4:13), so this then becomes our confidence. God saw us in our suffering and in our temptation, and suffered with us. There is, therefore, no shame. We have been called sons and daughters of Christ, since he (bringing together both Priest and High Priest) is beset with weakness (5:2), and therefore can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward. Just as Jesus prayed for the Power of God to defeat Death and “learned the obedience” of suffering (5:7-10), hear and listen (don’t be dull of hearing). The milk is the basic truth of our salvation, don’t double back on it. Rest in it so that you can then work for the sake of others, because solid food is for those who can distinguish (in the power of the Spirit) good and evil. That is what they have been called for. Let’s not dwell on our salvation then, but move on to maturity, for maturity (the sanctified life) cannot redo what Christ has already done (6:3-7). It is for maturity (confidence; 6:11-12 and our confidence) that we have been raised (6:7-8), a maturity that rests in the confidence that finds in a suffering world a God who is not unjust (6:16). This distinguishing between good and evil, and in the same way in which Christ is made perfect in suffering, pushes back against this idea that perfection is what makes the suffering worthwhile. Christ’s work on the Cross was not a demonstration of the perfect life as the way to salvation, but rather the perfection, “under Sin and Death”, came through suffering. That was the hope the Hebrews author wanted to instill into his readers.

What is their confidence (as Jewish Christians)? Their confidence is the covenant promise (6:14). This leads to a piece that is likely to confuse modern readers, a section that talks about the order of Melchizedek and Jesus. In the history of the Israelites, Melchizedek symbolizes the bringing together of both King and Priest (the name literally means “King of Righteousness”, and he was the first to be named Priest), establishing him in the Book of Genesis as the beginning of an order of Priests related to Abraham (and the covenant promise), in whom we see him giving bread and wine (Genesis 14:18) as a blessing for this salvation (God’s saving work for the world) and a foreshadow of the New Covenant. This contrasts with another Priestly Order, that which was established later with the Order of Aaron in the Law of Moses (the Levitical Preisthood, or the Law). The reason for this comparison was to emphasize this old and new Covenant promise. In Melchizedek, it says the inferior is blessed by the superior, in that the blessing of the Priest is given (propitiated) to Abraham. In the same way, Jesus does not arrive out of the Law, but rather arrives according to the order of Malchizedek (7:11-18). He gives his promise to us. So what then distinguishes Jesus from Melchizedek and all prophets, priests and kings  who have died? The fact that he is alive. He was resurrected from the grave. Jesus lives forever (7:23-24), and in the weakness (suffering) of the Cross is making perfect our suffering in Him (7:28). In this, God is building the true tent 8:2, a new covenant which we find (in their place of suffering and exile) in Jeremiah, one that is built not on the sacrifice of the Law, but a sacrifice on the Cross (8:3-5). As he is made perfect in suffering, this suffering leads the way to the liberty we long for (8:8-12), becoming the model and basis for our hope.

The author of Hebrews finds in this distinction between the Priestly Orders some imagery to apply to the Temple itself, something that fits with his emphasis on the building of the Spiritual house, which is the work of Jesus. Under the old Covenant, the Order of Aaron, a Priest offers himself in the temple (and in his weakness) for the “unintentional sins of the people” (9:7). The Hebrews author sees the tradition of the two sections of the temple as symbolic of the old and new covenant, using it to help his Jewish audience understand the hope they have in Christ. There was no way for them to get into the second section. The age of the Old Covenant is then placed alongside the first section of the Temple. The New Covenant established in Christ becomes symbolic for the second section. In Christ’s weakness, just as it was in the priests weakness, the blood which represents his being made perfect in suffering brings about their liberation (eternal redemption), establishing this second section in us (written on our minds and hearts). We are the building, and this truth is “purifying our conscious” from the Law (dead works) so that we are free, in our rest, to serve God in Christ’s resurrection (9:14).

In the Cross, the author of Hebrews sees in the metaphor of the Covenant (a legally bound document of will) the idea that death is what makes a covenant (life will) good. That is when it is established, is when someone dies. This is what the Cross does. In Jesus death, the New Covenant, not as an abolishment of the old covenant but as its fulfillment, is enacted. This is how suffering makes Jesus perfect, is that the greater sacrifice (9:23) is the sacrifice of God Himself (9:23-28). Sin (the Powers of Sin and Death) has been dealt with, so death need not be feared. God’s work is bringing about liberation

This idea of “one” who did something “once and for all” is a reoccurring theme in Hebrews, and it pushes us towards this idea of confidence. Going back to the Priestly Order, the Temple tradition as part of the “Law” reminds us of sin and death every year (10:1-3). Jesus reminds us of life and hope (10:5-7). If all we had was the Law, all we would see is death, which is something God takes no pleasure in. This is why, in Jesus, God remembers sin no more (10:17), and we are called to do the same. Rather than be reminded of death, His death reminds us of life.

Therefore (as the author applies this reasoning to the building argument), draw near in confidence (10:22). Move to maturity by stirring one another up in love and good works (10:24), and fellowship (10:25). For if we go on sinning (sin being the contrasting image of this division), all we will have is the old covenant, a reminder of death and judgment, and a need to enact justice (10:26-27) in futile ways. And yet, as 10:26-31 suggests, if we have fearful expectation rather than rest (in our confidence), how much more will this judgment fall on you who have rejected Jesus? (10:26-31) This is the nature of our way of thinking and seeing this hope within our present circumstance. If all we have is the Law, we are reminded of death, bringing judgment (of Israel’s failure) ultimately back on us. If they have confidence in Christ, they see and find a reminder of the life that is already theirs, what has been given (propitiated). So then, the author says, recall the former days, when you held to the confidence of Christ in your sufferings, and don’t throw away that confidence (10:32-36). Hold onto it so that you can witness to Jesus assurance of liberation (10:39), because “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (11:1).” Just as Gods creation of the world happened by faith, so is the hoped for liberation of their Covenant promise. And should they question this, just look to their own long history of God working in faith through the Israelites failure (chapter 11). Dont consider their heritage as shame, because God is not ashamed of them. They all (who have died) desired a better country (11:31), and God is in fact making that for them (11:16). God is not ashamed of them, and they are his sons ame daughters. If in all the past earthly pursuits accomplished “in faith” (for the sake of justice and liberation) they feel that they did not recieve what was promised (everyone died rather than finding liberation), rest in the truth that God has provided something even better than they could imagine (11:40). So if they recieved the promise before, how much more will they (and we) receive it in the joy of the cross (12:2), being made perfect in their suffering.

It is for discipline, “maturity”, that they endure (12:7), so make straight paths (for your feet) (12:12), paths built on peace and for holiness. See to it that “no one fails to obtain the grace of God” and that no division happens between you, this rest, and the witness this brings to the world (12:15). If the two covenants and the two sections of the temple can be seen in terms of the kingdom that is being built by God (12:19-24), the author says that “once more” the kingdom will be shaken (12:26-27), only this time all of creation is being shaken for the purpose of  Gods liberating work, to bring hope in the midst of their suffering, their division, and their despair living under the bondage of Sin and Death. Where brotherly love and hospitality reigns, this will bring remembrance of those suffering and oppressed and divided by way of the Cross, the suffering (fire) that is making us new, the consuming fire (of the one who was made perfect in suffering) setting things right in his righteousness (Chapter 12; 13:1-2). So in remembrance, and in their own suffering, enter into the suffering of others bearing witness to the new life they have in Christ. In this way, dont forget Jesus. Remember the witness that brought him to you, and remember the witness of your long heritage. These are working together for your sake and the sake of the world (Chapter 13). Be content and rest in what you have, because this is what Christ propitiated to you. That is the confidence they hold, the good news that pushes them forward on the straight path.

And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.
Mark 14:51-52

I love this small, seemingly insignificant verse. The reason I love it is because of the way it challenges our imagination. It is a verse that is only found in Mark, and it’s curious nature has led to much speculation about whether this was in fact John Mark that it is referencing. We have no way of knowing this for certain of course, but the reason I really like this theory is because of how it helps frames this Gospel tradition, a tradition that has long been associated with Peter. It’s striking that the Gospel (Christ’s work on the Cross) could emerge from such a moment like this, just as astonishing that a work driven by Peter’s own ministry could be willing to depict Peter and the disciples in such a light. It’s such a grand, human expression and it reminds me that in all our messiness, and in all of our questions and fears and doubts, God still works.

The Earliest Gospel, and a Persistent, Undeniable Word
Mark has long been understood to be the earliest of the Gospel writings. Although the author remains ambiguous, as I mentioned it has generally been placed within the tradition of Peter, with John Mark perhaps the same one we encounter along with Peter and Paul’s travels. One of the wonderful things about the Gospel of Mark is how all the evidence for its dating and authorship consistently pushes back on more modern attempts to try and position the writings of the New Testament neatly into a post-exilic, and often very post-exilic framework (no matter how hard one tries, the Gospel seems to want to position itself as being written in the mid to late 50’s, which has definite impact on so many working theories). The Gospel of Mark just refuses to be wrestled down in such a neat and clear fashion, which has this affect of challenging our perception and our ability to categorize these writings in a particular way. In this sense it brings us closer to Jesus and the Cross in a more faith driven way.

The purpose of Mark is simple and clear. It was written to a gentile audience in order to help them learn about Jesus’ Jewish context (within its universal reach). It occupies a distinctive and unique place among the Gospel writings n this regard, and we see in the words of Matthew and Luke the influences of Mark’s intimate concern.

The Beginning of the Gospel of Jesus- Who is Jesus and Where are We Following Him To
Mark begins in a familiar place in the Gospel tradition, establishing its opening words as
“The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the son of God (1:1)”. Mark keeps it simple and concise, moving to connect it to Isaiah as a way of establishing Jesus straight within the Jewish tradition, before then locating this within the ministry of John the Baptist as “the messenger” who is preparing the way for the long expected Jewish Messiah. In a brief 11 verses we are brought from Israel’s prophetic ministry to the ministry of John to the ministry of Jesus, all anchored by the confirming declaration of his baptism, “You are my beloved son.” (1:10) This, as Mark says, is the beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, ‘the son of God”.

Mark’s explanation of the baptism narrative is also refreshingly uncomplicated. The water is John (man), the Spirit is Jesus (God 1:8), which leads to water and Spirit becoming one in Jesus (both man and God 1:9-11). It is the Spirit then that drives this man Jesus into the wilderness (1:12-13), which contrasts with John’s imprisonment (1:14) as both the “sign” of the Kingdom’s arrival (1:15), an important theme that will push through Mark, and of God’s work being set in the context of man’s bondage to Sin. What emerges in an equally brief Temptation Narrative (1:12-13) is that this bondage is a “spiritual” reality, with Mark establishing the central conflict between the Power of the Spirit and the Power of the Devil (or the Power of Sin and Death, which is the Pauline language). As Jesus enters the temple (which he returns to over and over again in Mark), he is established as different than the “scribes” (1:22), and the kingdom then established as different than the one they expect, with a spiritual battle surfacing between the Powers (Jesus and the Demons, which are a visible mark of the healing narratives in Mark) in the midst of the earthly kingdom.

With all of this established in quick succession, we get this declaration that “The time (the Jewish expectation) is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand (1:15).” Leading to the call of the disciples as participants in this kingdom work (1:16-20). This imagery is going to become hugely important for carrying through to the of Mark. Here Mark finally slows down though and settles in with the call to “follow Jesus” to where he is going.  The idea of “following” is a motif in 1:16-20 that opens up this question that will inform the journey in Mark. Who is Jesus and where is it that we follow Jesus to? Mark has established that Jesus is the Son of God, but where He is going is something that has yet to unfold. All we know at this point is that time has both come and is at hand, and what we get in these opening words is this indication that somehow and in someway where we are following Jesus to is into some picture of the wilderness that informs the Temptation Narrative.

The Temple and the Gospel’s Jewish Roots
Jesus journey begins in the temple (1:21) and reaches out (1:29) from house to house. This reemphasizes Mark’s concern for unfolding the Gospel’s connection to these Jewish roots, with the journey beginning in this place.

Just to emphasize Mark’s concern for establishing these Jewish roots, Jesus will return time and time again to the temple, later connecting His ministry to its cleansing, and finally the Temple’s destruction (and rebuilding). When the Authority of Jesus (which contrasts with the declaration that He is God’s beloved Son) is challenged in 11:27-33, Jesus tells a parable in response (12:1-12). The parable is a powerful picture of Israel’s story, a people who rejected the prophets (John in 11:27-33), and who are now rejecting the beloved son because, in some way, they believe that Jesus is the heir to their vineyard and has arrived to take it from them rather than establishing their Kingdom, a Kingdom for their liberation. What, then, will the “owner of the vineyard” do with these people is a question that fits firmly with Mark’s desire to explain the Jewish roots of the Gospel. Will he come and destroy the tenants and give the Vineyard to others? No. This is not how God’s Kingdom is being built. As it was declared in the life of Israel, the stone rejected (Christ) has become the cornerstone. In this way, all is God’s (12:13-17). God is the God not of the dead, but of the living (12:27). Israel’s failure did not leave God devoid of His witness. Rather it opens up the world to his redemptive work. Who’s son is the Christ? He is the son of David, the son of God, which means that He is God’s witness to the world.

Therefore, it says, beware the Scribes who ignore the poor and devour widows (12:38-40), the same Scribes that Jesus describes as leaven working against this Kingdom vision. For the temple (the Kingdom, not the people) will be destroyed (13:1-12) so that this God can be established in Christ for the sake of the world.

Jesus Ministry: From the Desolate Place to the People
Mirroring this movement from the temple to the houses, what we also find in Mark’s gospel is the movement from the “desolate” place to the people (or from the people to the desolate place). In 1:35-39 we see Jesus get up early in the morning and move to this desolate place where he can pray. He then moves from the desolate place to the people where he preaches and heals. It is in going to the people where he encounters a man (a Leper) whom he heals and then instructs to “tell no one”, but rather show proof of his healing by way of the letter of the Law for the sake of the religious leaders (the Jewish roots). Only it says that the man doesn’t do this. Perhaps too hyped up and excited by what he has experienced, he disregards the Law and tells everyone he comes across.

The result of this is that the people now invaded the “desolated” place (1:40-45), and Jesus loses his place to rest and pray. Now we see Jesus praying and resting in the midst of the storms and the people (Jesus asleep in the storm (4:35-41), Jesus retreating to the desolate place to pray when in 6:46 he walks on the water to meet the disciples in their struggle against the wind, Jesus retreating to pray in the Garden of Gethsemane 14:32-42 ). Later, when Jesus extends the invitation for the disciples to come to a desolate place with him to find rest (6:31), the disciples are faced with the same influx of people looking for healing and to be fed and bombarding their place of rest. Here there is this rising tension in Mark’s narrative that exists between the work of Christ and the rest that Jesus looks for in the desolate place.  Jesus’ call to the disciples here is to feed the people rather than protect their place of rest (6:35-44). This is something that informs the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus returns to the Disciples twice and finds them sleeping as he retreated to pray. The inference that Mark holds in both hands here is the work of Christ now and the work of the disciples in his coming absence. The call is for the disciples to stay awake, for soon they won’t have a physical Jesus, but they will have the poor (in which we find a poor woman anointing Jesus 14:3-9). So  continue to proclaim the Gospel (work) in memory of her, because the Gospel is for the sake of the world. The Jewish roots are meant for the Gentile world. 

Healings, Forgiveness of Sins, and a Jewish Rooted Gospel for Sinners
The call to proclaim the Gospel in memory of the poor woman in the anointing story is anchored by the connection between the healing stories in Mark and the idea of “the forgiveness of sins”. While these healing stories bring to the surface the spiritual battle (God and Devil, Powers of Christ and the Powers of Sin and Death), in 2:1-12 these healings bear witness to the forgiveness of sins in an earthly fashion “in Christ”. As the script is flipped on the idea of the desolate place, and the people in need start crowding into Jesus home and the places of rest, this is where the Gospel of the forgiveness of sins bears witness within its Jewish context to the saving work of Christ for the world. It is this idea of the forgiveness of sins that leads to the conflict between the Jewish leaders and Jesus that emerges in 2:16-17. Jesus is with sinners, and this begins a righteous-sinner paradigm which Jesus applies in Mark’s Gospel to the contrasting imagery of the old and new wine-skins (2:18-22), the picture of the earthly Kingdom of God’s Kingdom. What Jesus is doing here is taking the Spiritual battle and giving it an earthly expression, something he does as this notion of forgiveness establishes tension between Christ and the Law (2:23-28), once again the two competing images of the Kingdom. This is why we return to the same progression of home-people, people-home immediately following in Chapter 3:1-6, where we find Jesus beginning in the synagogue, and then moving out to the people (3:7-12), a movement that is once again set back into that picture of the spiritual battle between the Powers (Jesus and the Demons 3:1-12), the calling of the disciples like we find in the first chapter (3:13-21), and then back home where we see a confusing of the Powers between Jesus and the Devil (3:22-30), which Jesus later describes as a bit of irony.

All of this movement is meant to portray the Jewish roots of Christ in a Gospel for the world. Home (mother and brothers) is now established as the world (whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother 3:35), which leads to a Parable (of the Sower) that is all about this Gospel for the world (4:1-9).

The Parable of the Sower and Christ for the world 
Parables, Mark’s Gospel indicates, are so that “they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear by not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven.” (4:12) While forgiveness creates tension between the two ideas of “the kingdom”, the Jewish failure to believe throughout their history is so that Gentiles can receive this forgiveness, “for nothing is hidden except to be made manifest (4:2).” The emphasis here is that the Kingdom that they (the Jewish people) are looking for is God’s work (4:26-29; 4:30-34), and God’s work is a saving work in the world, not simply within their history. This is why when Jesus returns home again he says (that bit of irony I mentioned), “A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown and among his relatives and in his own house (6:4).” This is ironic because of his rejection, but it is also hopeful because his audience is the Gentiles, and by seeing Christ at work within the Jewish people, they can then know that Christ is at work in them. In 7:1-13, Jesus points out the Jews long resistance to God in the prophets (7:1-13). He brings them up to reposition the tension between Jesus and Law within the promise for the Gentiles. What defiles in the eating of food (the Jewish accusation of the disciples according to the Law in 7:2) is compared to the washing of ones hands to eat. Jesus’ intent is to use this a metaphor to say, is it the food that is dirty, or what comes out the other end after we eat that makes hands dirty? This is a raw analogy that is intended to bridge the Jew-Gentile divide, allowing the Gentile faith to find a unifying presence in its Jewish history apart from the Law. The point of Israel is not for them to save themselves by following the Law (eating clean food), it was so that they can be a witness (what comes out) to the world. It is the witness of the Spirit that is their saving work, not the Law. This is the point of that metaphor. This brings positive expression to the following story of the Gentile woman’s faith (7:24-30) and the deaf man, whom coincidentally are told to tell no one of Christ’s saving work in their life (which of course means they tell everyone, because they just couldn’t help themselves 7:36).

From Called To Sent- A Growing Movement and An Unfolding Journey
To emphasize this growing movement, this idea of a journey to somewhere, Mark now goes from the call of the 12 to the “sending of the Disciples” (6:7-13). This coincides with the death of John the Baptist (6:14-29), anchoring this idea of Christ for the world. The spiritual battle is once again positioned back into their earthly reality, with John’s death echoing the Way of Jesus into the wilderness, an earthly expression that is about to find its practical unfolding in the great feeding of the crowds narrative.

The Feeding, the Sign and the Faithlessness 
There are two “feeding the crowds” narratives in Mark, the 5,000 in 6:30-44 and the 4,000 in 8:1-10. While this becomes a practical and earthly expression of the Gospel in full movement (them feeding the hungry that have invaded their personal space), Jesus uses it to make a point about their spiritual reality. In anticipation of the coming Kingdom, they have been looking for a sign, a definitive and earthly example of their liberation. To which Jesus says, “why does this generation seek a sign (8:12)?” Turning the event into a parable, Jesus explains that the loaves were actually the sign they are looking for (8:14-21). The disciples see the loaves as literal food feeding a literal crowd that has invaded their space, but Jesus defines the loaves as Himself. He is the sign, the one who feeds the spiritual and earthly hunger. This is what they were meant for. If we return to that parable mentioned earlier, while they were afraid that Jesus was taking away their Kingdom and giving it to others by feeding the Gentiles (with spiritual food), God is in fact building the Kingdom. When he then says to beware the leaven of the Pharisees and Herod, what he is doing is taking their unbelief in their work and setting it back into the framework of God’s work. As we hear the man looking for healing declare, “I believe, help my unbelief (9:24)”, this connects to the disciples being unable to cast out the demons as an expression of their own unbelief, a people (a faithless generation 9:19) still looking for a sign even though it is standing right in front them.

This unbelief is now merged into an expression of belief as God’s revealing, God’s work, with Peter confessing Jesus as Christ (8:27-30). But this confession comes with the declaration of the way in which they are being called to follow, the first of three foretellings of his death and resurrection. The question at the heart of Mark (where aer we following Jesus to) is now becoming clear. This is the Way into the wilderness (8:34).

And yet as we travel on the Way, we do so in the Power of the Spirit. Jesus, after all, controls the wind and the sea and the Demons (4:35-40; 5:1-20). And yet the Power that Jesus proclaims is a different kind of sign than they were expecting. As we find in the Transfiguration, the continued unfolding of this question (where are we following Jesus to) becomes more clear (9:1-13). As Peter proclaims Jesus, the Spirit of Heaven now joins in the chorus. So, as the son of God comes in the expression of the Prophets (the sign in Jewish history), how is it written that the sign would arrive like this, Jesus asks? But Elijah did in fact come, and he was rejected (indicating John the Baptist) just as the prophets were. And just as he was rejected, so must the Son of Man suffer (9:12-13). We then come to the second foretelling (9:30-32), with the following accompanying proclamation, “the one who is not against us is for us.” This gives a positive force to this Jewish-Gentile movement (9:40), a movement that is shaped around the idea that the first shall be last a servant to the world, establishing those who Jesus came to reach as “children of God (9:37)”. Therefore, let the children come to me (10:13-16), for “it would be better” for “whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin” to have a “great millstone” “hung around his neck” and be “thrown into the sea.”

The Apocalyptic Tradition, Children, Fire and Salt
These words are startling, especially for modern ears, but it it is important to recognize both the language and the context. This passage is framed between two passages which foretell Jesus’ death (9:30-32; 10:32-34), which reveals the way in which they are are to follow Jesus, the way into the wilderness (which coincides with the shared theme of “temptation” which we find in the Jesus’ temptation narrative). It belongs with a passage which finds the disciples arguing about who will be the greatest in the Kingdom of God. Jesus  then raises up a child to explain how it is that God’s Kingdom is going to work, suggesting that the Kingdom of God is for least and the last. They (Israel, we) are to be a servant to all. Whoever receives the Kingdom of God will be a child of God (9:37), therefore receive the Kingdom like a child (10:15), because that is the only way one can enter it. This is reemphasized in the accompanying story of the Rich Young Man, in which the point is that “many who are first will be last, and the last first”, using the money as an example of how difficult it is to enter the Kingdom like a child.

All of this is written in the context of the Jewish-Gentile relationship, and all of it is set within the developing tension of Jesus and the Law, and the Spirit of Power and the Power of the Devil (both of which inform Mark’s entire Gospel). Those who were arguing about who will be greatest are those under the Law. They are trying to argue about who has done more to earn that right in the new Kingdom. In reality, God’s Kingdom is for the world, for the Gentiles, for the oppressed, for the poor, the sick, the marginalized, and the invitation is to come into this Kingdom and receive full embrace. That is what God’s Kingdom is coming to do, to bring justice to the injustice that we find in this world. And the way it does so is by bringing the world into the Kingdom, or building the Kingdom in the world, and thus establishing the Kingdom not by works, but according to the restorative work of Jesus, the work that calls us all sons and daughters of God.

When we bring 9:42-50 in to this picture, we can see in the light of these accompanying sections concerned for these little ones, the Gentile world, the oppressed, the poor, the sick, the marginalized, the least of these. Mark now incorporates hyperbolic language. He doesn’t mean to literally cut off a hand, a foot, or to tear out an eye. He doesn’t literally mean to tie a stone around your neck and throw yourself into the sea. Some people have used this passage in an overly literal way to reinforce a picture of hell as the greatest judgement (9:48) for ignoring the least of these and causing them to sin. But doing that removes this from the force of it’s hyperbolic language and misses (completely) the restorative nature of its final two verses (9:49-50). Here it says “for everyone will be salted with fire”, and this salt is “good” (9:50), not bad. This holds in view the imagery of Jesus’ baptism that we find formulated in other Gospels, in which fire is applied to Jesus as a “refining” work. As people tried to make sense of Jesus’ words and works, especially in His absence, this idea of fire as a refining and restorative Power was part of what had been passed down by Jesus’ teachings and part of what the writers were wrestling with as these letters were composed. Here Mark recalls the tradition of Jesus’ words within the apocalyptic tradition that informed their world, one which would have brought in the language of their time, language that also echoed the Greco-Roman world that surrounded them. Here fire is understood as an image of “judgment” and “destruction”.

Jesus’ words locate fire in a different sense, using it as a metaphor to uncover the work of Jesus, the Power of the Spirit and the growing Kingdom. Everyone, it says, is being salted with fire, a fire which is making salt for the world. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how will you make it salty again? All they will be left with is the fire, a fire which they will then use to keep the Gospel from moving out into the world, a fire which will ultimately consume them as well. Therefore, it says, “have salt in yourself” (9:50). Be “at peace” with one another (9:50). Don’t let the fire become destructive. Instead, let the fire refine you for the sake of the world.

This also forms the interest for 10:1-12, in which he uses the example of a broken marriage and a healthy marriage to emphasize this peace with one another in a practical way, informing their tendency to let the fire divide rather than join together. If we incorporate the whole of the New Testament emphasis here, the Law (Divorce, or the Broken Marriage) reveals Sin (the divide, the destructive fire), and the Sin (the fire) reveals the Light (the Healed Marriage, the healthy Marriage, the salt). That is how the salt and the fire are “good” images. As Paul understood, in Israel’s rejection of the prophets and Jesus, Jesus is being revealed to the world.

Anchoring this even further, as the Rich Young Man calls Jesus “Good” teacher in 10:17-31, Jesus responds with “why do you call me good? No one is good (the question of the Law that informs their need to know who will be “the greatest in the Kingdom) except God alone (10:19).” If he is calling Jesus good, then he is calling Jesus God, which is where Jesus steers his question away from the Law to the Kingdom of Jesus, where the first shall be last and the last shall by first. This is the true riches, the same riches Jesus sets into the reality of Cross which awaits. Just as he tells James and John in their wondering about who will occupy the most respected seat in the Kingdom with Jesus, Jesus’ Cross is built on becoming a servant to all, becoming the least so that the least shall be first. All of this Law that they are trying to raise as the their earned right to the be first and the greatest in the Kingdom is now framed around the greatest commandment as “love God” and “love others” (12:28-34), for the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many.” (10:45) This is what Jesus is doing on the Cross, the image of the servant entering Jerusalem (11:1-11 the image of the new Kingdom, the temple which is being cleansed 11:17), destroyed and raised up again in Jesus (for the world) in triumph, finding victory in his coming death. In this new temple, Jesus’ “house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations” 11:17 That is why the salt and the fire are refining them.

The Fig Tree, A Sign of Faith and The Present-Future Time
The fig tree is a symbol that reemerges in Mark’s Gospel and elsewhere in the Gospel. Here it fits with the question that emerges earlier in Mark about the “signs”. They are all looking for signs that the Kingdom is being established in their midst, but they were missing the fact that Jesus is the sign. As Jesus enters Jerusalem looking to establish God’s Kingdom by way of the servant, we see him retreating to this fig tree on a hill, only to find no fruit. “It was not the season for figs” he says (11:13). When Mark revisits the fig tree in 11:20-25, we discover that the lesson of the fig tree is actually about faith in God, faith in what God is doing in bringing about the Kingdom of God (12:20-25). Instead of looking for sign of God’s judgment on their oppressors, forgive so that they can be forgiven, having the same faith in which Jesus controlled the wind, the seas and the Demons, not the faithlessness which we saw earlier when they couldn’t throw out the Demons. Have the kind of faith that can move a mountain and throw it into the sea, because in Christ all things are possible. In their present circumstance, a Kingdom can be built for the sake of the world. In death there can be life.

The third mention of the fig tree (matching up with the three foretellings of the cross and the 3 denials of Peter) comes in 13:28-31, which pulls this faith into the “signs” of the “closing age”. Here once again we come to this apocalyptic language. The fig tree in the second passage had leaves but no fruit. Here the leaves are said to indicate that the season is upon us. It is coming soon. The destruction of the temple that Jesus foretells in 13:1-2 is a part of this season, with the signs that we encounter in chapter 13 carrying this present-future focus. Just as it says to “stay awake” for the time is upon us in 13:32-37, the disciples who fall asleep as Jesus goes to pray in Gethsemane (14:32-42) are called to stay awake because the time is upon us. This is the thing people often forget when encountering this kind of apocalyptic language. The imagery here for its readers would have been applied directly to their reality at the time. This is how they would have interpreted the hope of Jesus’ liberation. And later, when the destruction of the temple does come, all of this language would have been eventually regathered and applied to the present generation. Chapter 13 has a present-future focus (13:3-27), with all of the language ultimately pointing to the Cross as Jesus’ definite “word” of victory (13:31). The Kingdom will come, but the Kingdom is in fact already here. So stop looking, and get to work. Stay awake. Because the Gospel must first be proclaimed to all nations (13:10).

This is how the ministry works in our waiting, in our present reality. While we apply the language of the Kingdom come, the New Heavens and the New earth, we always apply it to the present with Jesus’ death and resurrection pointing us to the promise of the future restoration. These words of a coming restoration (what is wrong being made right) linger in the air, with the Resurrection shaping them as our hoped for reality and the Cross shaping how we respond to this hope in the present. This is why, as Peter breaks down and weeps in his own failure (denials, which expresses itself as doubt, a lack of faith in what Jesus is doing), the failure is set within the seeming loss of this Kingdom promise (14:72). This becomes the grand movement of Jesus on the Cross in Mark’s Gospel. If the reigning question in Mark is, who is Jesus and where are we following Jesus to, the questions now merge together. As Pilate asks, “are you the King of Jews”, Jesus responds with “you have said so (15:2).” This is reminiscent of the rich young man calling him “good teacher”, and is set alongside the Spirits declaration that says this is the Son of God. We then see this progression in response. They say “Hail the King of the Jews” in mockery as Jesus is marched to the Cross. The “sign” (evoking Jesus as the sign they were looking for) is put over his head saying “The King of the Jews”, and then they once again mock him saying “let the King of the Jews come down” from the Cross (15:21-32). All of this then leads to this sudden declaration that “truly this was the Son of God (15:39), a statement that comes when the Cross is revealed as Power, not weakness. Jesus is the sign they were looking for, and His Kingdom has now come, establishing the Cross as the measure of their faith, the way in which they were and are follow. The shared wilderness in this present reality.

As Mark’s Gospel comes to an end (excluding the added piece in 16:9-10), we find this revealed reality leaving them trembling and in astonishment, followed by the admonition, why are you standing there looking for Jesus (as if they were still looking for the sign). He (Jesus, the sign) has risen and has gone “before you” to Galilee (16:1-8). This is your sign that the Kingdom of God has been established. Therefore, don’t sleep, stay awake. Take up your own cross now and follow Jesus into the suffering of the world, for the time is near. In fact, the time has now come to build this Kingdom for the sake of all.

 

 

In one of the commentaries on The Book of Acts that I read in the past, I remember it saying that Acts is the single most “diverse” book in the New Testament canon in terms of the “act” of translating and parsing through all of the original manuscripts and turning it into the book that we have. This makes it not only a fun book to translate, but a fun book to read, especially because of all the added material and notes and qualifying statements that tend to fill most of our study Bibles.

While it is generally accepted that whoever wrote the Gospel of Luke (the author of both books remains ambiguous) also wrote the Gospel of Acts (Luke-Acts), the sheer body of work that scholars have to sift through in the Acts of the Apostles certainly does leave some interesting questions regarding the date of its composition. The most fervent question regards the ending, which leaves Paul’s story with an open ended question and as an incomplete narrative. Depending on how one wants to read this inference (does this mean the author was aware of or unaware of the latter part of Paul’s story), the idea that the author of Luke-Acts travelled with Paul and was also connected with the author of the Gospel of Mark points to one of the strongest theories regarding date, which is that the author wrote in the midst of these unfolding events and along with these other authors.

The way the Book carries us through all these different touch-points in the story of the Apostles and the unfolding witness of the Spirit of the Gospel in their midst, crossing paths with the different letters, different characters and different pivotal events that form the New Testament as a whole carries with it a sense of drama and narrative that is unique, epic and sweeping in nature. Although a fair chunk of the book is built around a series of sermons, the book reads like an action packed novel full of movement, tension, humor and tragedy. And given how the book seems to fit well with Luke, the Book of Acts functions like a sequel that uses the Gospel’s serious cliffhanger as a jumping off point, even finding a nice cliffhanger of its own too (too bad the author of Luke-Acts wasn’t up for a trilogy!!!). The book’s central concern begins in the “waiting” (1:4) for the promised Spirit (1:8), carries through to the arrival of the Spirit (Chapter 2), and hangs on this movement to the “ends of the earth” (1:8) as it follows the “acts” of the Apostles.

A Shift in Time, A Shift in Focus- Waiting for the New Kingdom To Come
The reference to “40 days” indicates a shift in the setting we find at the end of Luke (1:3), an inference to time having passed. This gives Acts a transitional point to move from the end of The Gospel of Luke into the unfolding narrative of Acts, with the call to “wait” (in Jerusalem now carrying a dual focus (1:4).  The question asked to Jesus is, “will you (Jesus) at this time restore us and bring in the promised Kingdom (1:6)? This “waiting” for the new Kingdom to come, for this promised liberation of the Jewish people, merges with the call to now wait for the Power (the Spirit that John talked about when he said the Jesus would Baptize in fire and spirit1:5) that will carry them through this period of waiting, for what is not yet is still come, and “it is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed… but (and here is the significant part, in the meantime) you “will ” receive power.”

But here is what the waiting means in the context of their (the Jewish people) liberation. The movement from the Cross continues “to the end of the earth.” (1:8) And so, as Jesus ascends and the the Galileans are left there in waiting and wondering, the angels appear asking, why do you stand there? He will return. Liberation will come. In the meantime, get out there and start doing this liberating work (1:11), because there is a whole world waiting with you.

The Movement of the Spirit, the Jew-Gentile Relation and The Unifying Work of the Spirit
What is significant about the way Acts positions us in 1:21-26 back in Jerusalem by way of Matthias and Joseph (a Righteous Jew and the first one to go looking for the kingdom and find Jesus’ body in Luke) is how this establishes not only a framework for the movement of the Spirit (from Jerusalem-Rome-ends of the earth), but also the context for understanding the Jew-Gentile relationship in the life of the early Church.

As the Spirit moves, what becomes apparent is this growing concern for both the people of Israel and the salvation of the Gentiles, and how this is (and will be) creating division in the development of the early Church. In Chapter 7, we find a shared concern for Israel set alongside this feeling that they are also the ones being judged for the rejection of their own prophetic ministry, leading to the first of two grand retelling of Israel’s story by Stephen (followed by Stephen’s judgment and death). This moment in Acts becomes a exclamation point on the idea that they (Israel) have always rejected the prophets, the preachers, the kings, and the patriarchs, even though they were always for Israel.

The second time we find this retelling of Israel’s story (13:6-46), we hear that “it was necessary that the word of God be spoken first to you (Israel), since you thrust it aside and judge yourselves unworthy of eternal life. Behold, we are turning to the Gentiles (13:46).” The Jews, then, were called to be a light to the Gentiles, and thus by nature of this light (the grace of God and liberation afforded to the whole of creation) come to “continue in the grace of God” themselves because of what this understanding of Grace without boundaries brings back to them in their rejection of the prophets (13:43).

This fits with the idea that we find in the writings of the New Testament letters of the Law existing to reveal the Powers (of Sin and Death), and Sin existing to reveal Jesus to the world. Later it is declared that the Baptism of John was for Israel, and the Baptism of the Spirit was for all nations (13:24; 19:1-10), all of which was for the sake of God’s liberating work (Grace) in and for the world.

3:11-26 repeats the claim that there is “death”, but also “resurrection” according to the Prophets we find mentioned in chapter 2, emphasizing that although the prophets were rejected, God was and is still working in the life of Israel in the same way He has been working in the world. God has never been without a witness to the Spirits movement (14:16). Although all those who rejected the prophets (in the past) were destroyed (died), you are sons of the prophets standing here now (as a witness to the movement of God’s spirit), through which all the families of the earth will be blessed (Chapter 3). The Prophets then merge with this new kingdom which has arrived in the life of Jesus and through the Power of the Holy Spirit (2:15-21). The Power of Sin and Death has been defeated (2:24), providing this sweeping and hopeful image that brings together David and Jesus as a connective and unified force.

This is what establishes a present-future dynamic to the ways in which we apply resurrection hope, bringing us back to the notion of waiting “in power”. The death of Jesus, which Peter wants all of Israel to know, was in fact the victory (2:36), all of which leads them to be both humbled (2:37) and amazed (2:43), shaping the idea of standing and waiting in Jesus’ seeming absence without the visible and physical liberation they still longed for and expected. This is the promise of the Power that is coming, and which is now here, that the Spirit is bringing together this present-future dynamic, enabling us to step out and participate in this liberation now as an undivided people, both Jew and Gentile.

The Spirit Arrives in Power and Unifying Purpose
The Power of the Spirit arrives in Chapter 2 in one of the book’s most memorable and dramatic sequences. More than just for the sake of drama, this Pentecostal event carries with it a point and intention that is able to awaken us to the grand God-Human-Creation story to which we, Jew and Gentile belong. As the divided tongues “as of fire” come to rest on the heads of the people, we get these competing visions of the division that exists in the world and the Spirit’s power to heal this division in its unifying work. The ensuing witness of the different languages (2:1-4), and the declaration that there were Jews and devout men from every nation under heaven (2:5) pushes towards this image of the multitude coming together. The image of the early community (those of the Way) is one in which “All those who believed were together and had all things in common” (2:44;4:32-37), emphasizing the Spirits intent to heal the division as a reigning theme that pushes through the whole of the New Testament. This same picture emerges again in 11:29, telling of the diversity of the growing group of disciples. This unifying work reaches from Israel, the ones who continually rejected the word of God through the Prophets and Jesus, to the ends of the earth. It is interesting that this same unifying focus informs Paul’s ongoing ministry to the Gentile world, finding him switching from the language of Christ (for the Jews) to a focus on creation whenever he finds himself speaking to a Greco-Roman audience for the sake of this unity. In Chapter 7, we find a humorous display where Paul is speaking and his hearers, an audience of philosophers in Athens, are hearing nothing but “babble”. Paul moves then to find a way to speak their language (17:22-33), and again similarly so in the story of Paul with the Ephesians and the whole Artemis narrative of Chapter 19. He does this as a way to unite those across cultures in the Power of the shared Spirit.

The Movement of the Spirit, the Movement of Jesus, and the Movement of the Apostles
As the Power (the Spirit) arrives, one of the interesting dynamics of the Acts narrative is how it begins to reflect the ministry of Jesus. Just as with the arrival of Jesus, we see this mix of amazement and mockery standing side by side. The passage in 3:1-10 is reminiscent of Jesus ministry, culminating in 4:17 with the call to “tell no one”, a claim we also find in the Gospel and that is equally partnered with healing stories. Later, as we get into the story of Paul, much of his ministry work follows in line with the ministry he shares in Christ, including a prophecy that he must suffer and die in Jerusalem, and the whole movement from accusation to being sent before the councils. This movement becomes the framework through which we can understand his shared suffering as part of God’s liberating work.

Paul and Peter- From Jerusalem to the Ends of the Earth
In fact, if we can section Acts into two main distinguishing parts, one would be Peter’s journey, the other Pauls. Peter emerges as the founding voice of the early Church, the very image of the Spirits movement beginning in Jerusalem, while Paul will later emerge as a symbol of it’s movement into the Gentile world (in which this movement from Jerusalem to Rome begins with his conversion story in chapter 9), with the great Jerusalem Council, which declared a Gospel for the Gentiles, standing as a centralizing force for this Jewish-Gentile reality (Chapter 15; 16:4). As these two ministries come together (with some contention), this forms a Gospel for all the earth.

As we move through these two stories, we also get these shared images of opposition to the Gospel, with the reigning image being that of the Spirit’s persistent and unrelenting movement. Just as it happened with Jesus’ death, the witness of the Spirit will move regardless of the opposition, something we see every time they try and imprison Peter (12:1-5) and Paul (that won’t stop those Angels!!12:6-19), everytime we encounter a death surrounding the Spirit’s witness, and in the declaration of those who, through the Spirits witness and the work of the Apostles, find Jesus (recalling the Ethiopian Eunuch who cries “what prevents me from being baptized… nothing!! (8:37)”, and the different healing stories that we encounter along the way).

Paul’s Conversion- The Unrelenting Movement of the Spirit

This tension between the opposition and the Spirit’s movement is perhaps no more aware than it is in the story of Paul’s conversion, a story that is retold three times in the narrative of Acts. The first time is in chapter 9 (9:1-19), a passage that positions the “evil’ that Paul has done with the declaration that Paul is a “chosen instrument of God (9:13-15). Within this tension the Church is being built up (9:31). Later, after we encounter a shift from first person (Paul) to “we” (Barnabas separates from Paul and we now find Paul with Timothy and Silas), a dramatic encounter with Paul and Silas in prison finds the Spirit moving through an earthquake that bears witness to God’s continued work in their suffering and the struggle, the declared good news of the Spirits Power to free them being that “Jesus has fixed a day upon when he will judge the world (17:31)”, a reminder that liberation is still coming as they continue to wait and walk in the present.

All I know, Paul says, is that suffering awaits me (the prophecy of Paul’s conversion), but Paul does not account his life as one worth saving for his own sake, but rather he desires to finish in the Way to which he was called for the sake of the Gospel and the Grace of God being poured out for the sake of the world (20:23-24). In 22:1-21, this is what the second account of Paul’s conversion story emphasizes, is the idea that his suffering will not stop the movement of the Spirit. God is still working.

And as we follow Paul through his story, we can see this conviction playing out in a very real way. Following his visit to James (21:17-26), Paul is arrested (21:27-36), and despite trying to use his Roman citizenship as a way to qualify his ministry as both a Roman and a Jew, and trying to show himself to be in good conscious (22:25), he ends up before council (Chapter 23) with a plot being established to kill him (23:12;15), and eventually is moved from the council to the Governor Felix (23:23-35) with the accusation that he has been starting riots among the Jews (24:5).

This eventually leads to him standing before Agrippa and Bernice (25:13-27) and following this on a journey to eventually stand before Caesar himself (25:1-12), a journey that features one of the other more dramatic stories in Acts, the grand shipwreck that ultimately sets him in Rome still awaiting Caesar in the closing words of The Book of Acts.

And yet what informs this final movement to Rome is this idea that Rome, as a more literal rendering of the “end of the earth” in this case, is actually pointing to a more final declaration, which says, “Therefore let it be known to you that this salvation of God has been sent to the Gentiles, and they will listen (28:28).” As Paul sits in shackles awaiting his trial, being said by those around him to be “out of his mind” (27:24), the final word is the Spirit’s movement, a movement that Paul will ultimately continue to carry to Spain, and eventually with him to his death. The final word is a Gospel for the world, a movement that reaches from Jerusalem (the first fruits of this witness) to the more figurative (and all encompassing) ends of the earth.

It’s a powerful picture that arrives with the tension that has carried through the entire Book of Acts, both the tension of the Jew-Gentile relationship, and ultimately the tension of the Spirit’s promise to bear witness of God’s work in the world where the Darkness and oppression still seem very apparent.

As we encounter the third of Paul’s retelling of his conversion story (26:9-19), we find him requesting a chance to talk to the people so as to speak to this reigning tension as in fact good news, findint him standing there in the face of his own uncertainty witnessing to the hope of Christ’s liberating work (26:12-23). What God has done in him, God desires to do in all.

Peter, Boldness, and the Power of the Spirit to Reveal Christ

Near the start of the Acts account, following the pouring out of the Spirit in Power, we find Peter standing at the precipice of the Spirit’s arrival and eventual movement praying for boldness (4:23-31). If, as readers, we are aware of Peter’s journey with Jesus in the Gospel of Luke, this prayer for boldness intersects with the prayer of Jesus for Peter in light of his coming denial. Here Jesus’ prayer holds true, a positive declaration that in the Spirit Peter is drawing strength from his own unwanted opposition to the ministry of Christ. His failure to fully trust in the Power of the Cross to liberate the world bears witness to the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection to work above, beyond and within him for the sake of both him and the world. Later on, Chapter 11:1-18 sets up Peter’s “vision” in 10:9-33 as the “movement of the Spirit” that was first made known in his life as a follower of Christ. This is a movement that will not be stopped.

For Peter, the point of the Spirit’s movement is clear. It is not him, but rather it is to Christ that the Spirit points. The reality of the Cross and the Resurrection is what the Spirit reveals. Peter is fervently aware of asking them not to worship his ministry, but rather to worship Christ (10:26). This distinguishing of the Apostles teachings will become a problem in Paul’s letters, and here there are already followers of John the Baptist (19:1-3) that need to be reframed and refocused around the ministry of Christ as the liberating Power in this already-not yet reality.

Paul as well, as he deals with accusations of dividing the Jewish sects and the Jewish people, says that it is not Paul’s ministry or Paul that should be on trial, but rather it is his witness to the ministry of Jesus that should be wrestled with and considered. More specifically, it is the witness of the Spirit to the Resurrection that is dividing those of the Law (23:6-10), and it is through the suffering and death of Christ (the shared ministry that he embodies) that this desires to bare itself out among them. This is why the word and title “christian” in 11:26, the first use of the word we encounter in early “Christian tradition”, bears a scandalous and accusatory weight. This is the great message of the Apostles and the mystery of the Spirit that is being revealed. And the great proclamation of the Acts of the Apsotles is that this mystery is no longer just the witness of the Jews (through the Law and the Prophets) and Jesus’ ministry, but is also theirs (the whole earth’s)(10:37-43). As Paul accuses them of “making the straight path crooked” (the path that John envisions in Jesus 13:10), it is the Spirit who is making this path straight. That is the unstoppable movement of Christ’s liberating work, a movement that begins at the Cross and looks towards Christ’s return, setting this present-future reality within this ever present contest between Darkness and Light, Devil and Lord, Powers that are trying to divide what has been made straight. The great truth of the Spirits witness though, is that what is being made crooked is still being made straight. This is the Power that has been given. That is why the earlier believers in Acts were called followers of The Way. The Powers of Sin and Death have been defeated, and the Way has been made known. As God strikes Herod down in 12:23,24, a symbolic vision, the word, the liberating work of God is moving from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth, unting Jew and Gentile in one Spirit and one language, the language of Christ and the Cross. And although this movement arrives with many exciting ups and downs, some humorous moments (the weird story about people trying to expel evil spirits in 19:11-20 and failing miserably; Paul talking so long that people are falling asleep in 19:7-92; Paul talking and people just hearing “babble”), the greatest movement the world has ever seen, this movement from Heaven to Earth and back again, this great bringing together of the New Creation, is just getting started. We might end with Paul in prison awaiting his meeting with Caesar, but because of Jesus’ Resurrection death does not get the final world. The best of this story is still yet to come, but for now, as we wait with creation in those shared shackles, the call of the Spirit is to get in on the movement, to taste and see this liberating goodness in the here and now. The Power has come, and the Power is ours, so why are you standing there looking. Get up and walk for the Kingdom is already here.

 

 

This small letter just might be one of the more quotable sections of scripture one will find. It is incredibly aware of Christ, and therefore despite the ways in which the letter itself remains somewhat ambiguous in context and concern, the words themselves easily translate and contextualize across these boundaries. This is a Gentile community looking to be reminded of their new found identity in Christ.

The Letter is attributed to both Timothy and Paul, but it doesn’t take long when reading through it to recognize what scholarship has been pointing out for a good while, which is that the language feels slightly different from Paul. This certainly could push one towards Timothy as a possible author, but tracking down the author of the letter nevertheless remains a bit allusive.

However, if we are talking about the letters translation and contextualization, one thing that is for sure is that its words feels especially true when placed in a larger awareness of the Pauline tradition which likely informs it. Much of the content here fits readily into theologies and ideas and confidences that surround it and that have shaped it. It carries this presence not of a letter that is necessarily influencing wide spread theological development, but of a letter that provides us with a snapshot of a given theology that has been “lived in” and “experienced” and “practiced” in a particular setting. The focus is surprisingly simple and uncomplicated, and its expression quite directive in terms of being lobbied towards this particular community and onto (and into) an idea that has obviously already been fleshed out and understood in their midst.

Of immediate concern here is the encouragement of the Colossians towards maturity in the face of some kind of opposing teaching which was pushing back against their understanding and embrace of the Gospel (2:4;2:8-9;2:18). What we don’t know as readers is whether this teaching was coming from outside of the community or from the inside. To read the letter is to get this sense that it could be either-or, both-and. Also a bit unclear, especially in an ancient world where the opponents of the Gospel were generally quite clear and defined (floating between Gnosticism and Jewish sects), is what these teachings were that were challenging their embrace of the Gospel.

Moving From Darkness To Light- A Liberating Image
This is where the language in the text emerges as something particular, representing an eclectic mix of Jewish mysticism, Pagan beliefs, and Gnostic teachings. Which one of these three things has a greater push and pull is where scholarship remains divided. What we do know with a bit more clarity is that whatever it was, it had something to do with their faith being disqualified by some rule of the Law. (2:16-18; 2:8). Thus the author desires to remind the readers of their movement from Darkness ( where they were alienated and hostile in mind 1:21) to the Kingdom (Light) of his beloved Son in whom we (they) have “redemption” and “the forgiveness of sins.” (1:14)

In this desire, Christ emerges as the letter’s central focus (1:15). In an absolutely wonderful rendering of this movement from the Darkness to Light, the author moves through a descriptive of Christ as “the image of the invisible God”,  the “firstborn of creation” who has gone before, is in, and is also holding all things together. Christ is the fullness of God, the same God who is reconciling all in earth and heaven by the blood of the Cross. What a wonderful, sweeping, and liberating image.

Moving From Darkness To LIght- Suffering As An Informing Reality 
Moving from this image of the “blood of the Cross”, which is represented as the reconciling work of God, the author then connects this to the notion of suffering. “In (their own) suffering” the author rejoices in a chance to fill up (for them) what was lacking (in them) for the sake of Christ’s witness (the Cross as the reconciling work). This fits with the tagline that comes at the end of the book in which we get this more direct reference to Paul, saying (with an almost “therefore” connotation) “Remember my chains. Grace be with you.”4:18. There is a connective tissue that is exposed here between Christ’s suffering, the author’s suffering, and how these things can inform the reader’s suffering (which in the context of Colossians appears to be holding them to the same hostility of mind they once inflicted on others). In this movement from Darkness to Light, God is choosing their current circumstance (and has chosen them) to make known Christ, whom the author calls the “mystery of God”, the one whom is being revealed to them (in the riches of full assurance of understanding- knowledge) and likewise making them (in their movement from Darkness to Light) hidden in Him. Whatever the hostile arguments were that they were hearing or facing, the author says this so that this would stay as an immovable truth for them. Christ is in them and they are in Christ. This is something they know and the author is simply looking to refill their tank.

The Mystery and the Building Up of This Mystery
It is for this mystery that we (they) then push for “maturity” (1:28), “knit together in love” (2:2), “rooted and built up” (2:7). There is a sense of togetherness to this growth that will emerge more concretely as the letter moves forward, but here the grander picture is the notion of the foundation (Christ) and the “spiritual building” (Christ’s work in us), a crucial theological idea the is present throughout the development of theology in the New Testament writings, as that which is “bringing us together” over and against the hostile voices . And what is being built up through this foundation is their Gentile heritage (2:11-12), which is the thing that is being held (hidden) in their baptism (2:12), a baptism which nails the Law that excludes them, whatever that letter happens to be for the audience of this letter, to the Cross (2:14). Whoever is making accusations (judgements) that this is not the case (2:16), they are being called to remember that Christ is the one that holds their promise and their hope hidden in Him. Christ alone is the “substance” of their faith. Christ is the “Head, from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God.” (2:19) What a wonderfully raw and blunt image of our baptism. This is one of those phrases that doesn’t sound at all like Paul, but is certainly no less caught up in the same richness of Christ’s witness that has been moving through the Gentile world according to the Pauline witness.

If With Christ, Then Live In Christ
Now the author moves in directly to target whatever semblance of these “false” teachings might have already infiltrated their community. If with Christ you died (moved from Darkness to Light), why do you submit to regulations (Law) 2:23. Presenting the contrasting picture in response, “If then” (with Christ you died), seek the things that are above (3:1). This is where the mystery lies. This is where your life is being hidden with Christ. (3:3) This echos with the authors and voices of the New Testament teachings that call us to stop living as though we are under the Powers of Sin and Death (the Darkness). Live as though you are under the Power of Christ (Light and Life).

God’s Justice And Our Identity: A Unifying and Liberating Force
God’s justice (wrath, judgment, justice, all words with shared concern) is coming (a phrase which calls back to whatever judgments are being lobbied on them in 3:6), so put the earthly ways (that which is not from above, the Law that judges them) under Darkness (3:5, also interpreted as Death) where it belongs. I love this phrase. It’s equally declarative as it is responsive. And it is so wonderfully directive as well. Whatever it is that is telling you that you don’t belong to Christ, take it and put it under “Darkness”. And then step back into the Light. This is the idea of dying to ourselves, or to die is to gain, and living in Christ. For the new knowledge that you (and we) received in this mystery (that is our identity in Christ) has neither Greek nor Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free… it has only Christ.

What is especially powerful about this picture is how it arrives with this sense of nakedness and vulnerability. Whatever it is that we are setting under Darkness, we are actively taking off and disrobing from. And as we step into the light, we are putting on this new set of clothes (Christ Himself), the clothing of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, fellowship, forgiveness, and above all love (3:12-14). And then, it says, therefore, “as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him.” 2:6

How many people, how many of us, need to hear this message? I know I do. Daily. Whatever it is that tells us we don’t belong to Christ, put it under Darkness, and then put on the new clothes. And we do so that we can have the freedom and confidence to tell others that they are under Christ.

A NOTE ON SIN, SCRIPTURE AND INTERPRETATION
A note here, because if you are reading through Colossians (and reading my thoughts on it), you might (at this point) be tempted to want to clutter the simplicity of this message with the rest of the text. There are particular distinctives that come along with this placing “under Darkness” for the readers of Colossians in Chapter 3. They aren’t simply putting the hostile words under Darkness, they are putting particular ways of living this hostility under Darkness. The list includes “sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness (3:5).” These are things that come with the clothes that they are being asked to take off, all things that belong in the Darkness because of the ways in which they, if you continue on in the verse, foster “anger, wrath (judgment), malice, slander and obscene talk (3:7-8).” These descriptors give us something of an image of the world in which fhe Colossians co-exist, and the world that they were pulled out of when they moved from darkness to light.

One of the dangers that often emerges in our reading of scripture is that we tend to fixate on these kinds of passages as simply some kind of generalized form of an ambiguous “moral code” meant to be applied in arbitrary ways that connect to our salvation. Seeing it in this way though removes us from the larger concern and the larger picture. What we would miss here is the larger context for the Colossian readers that we have been following to this point, which is this truth that they are being told they don’t belong (the hostile words), and are being encouraged (filled up) with the truth that they do belong. Whatever this “judgment” (as it calls it) is telling them, this is part of what they are taking off, and they do so “because” of the truth that God’s justice is coming (with the interpretation here being that judgment, wrath, and justice are all words that connote this vision of what is wrong being made right).

That is the main concern for the author. If we lose sight of this, we will inevitably find ourselves doing precisely the same thing that the others are doing to the Colossians, using a measure of the Law to set them in or outside of Christ according to a measure of “hostility”.

The other important thing about this is a tendency to fixate on particular “sins” as that which moves us in and outside of Christ. As you read through the New Testament, there is a noticeable distinction and tension that arises between Christ as the one that frees us from the Law and moves us to the Light, and on the flip side of this the Darkness as a place where “lawlessness” reigns. The consistent call in scripture, as it appears here in Colossians, is to carry this tension with us as we step into the light, not as that which determines our reality (as a child of God), but as an opportunity for this lawlessness (out of which we arrive at notions of sin) to make us aware of our reality in Christ. This is why the Law exists, scripture says, to expose the Darkness. And the Darkness exists to expose the Light. These interchanging ideas is what allows us to function within this tension with a degree of confidence in who Christ has declared us to be. It removes us from the distinctives of the Law (where we are “externally” defined by and judged according to some ambiguous collection of sins), and gives us the distinctive of Christ.

Here is another important and necessary thing to understand. So much of the sin that we tend to fixate on tends to function within the ideologies that hold them in place as a matter of “identity”. It says, we are this therefore we are not in Christ. They tend to take sin and twist it into some measure of a “person” (in highly individualistic terms built by our theological constructs of due “punishment” for sin) which God simply cannot stand and cannot tolerate simply because God hates this particular sin (and therefore must punish us with death) for seemingly arbitrary reasons. This is not how the notion of sin works in scripture though. Sin in scripture always begins with its grander context as The Powers (of Sin and Death), or the Darkness, which is where Sin functions in these identity shaping ways, and the Power of Christ which moves us from Death to Life. Sin, as the Powers, always tells us something untrue about our identity in Christ. It leaves us with Darkness and Death. That is how it deceives. That is how it functions. That is how it holds us in bondage. Sin says to us and the world in all its various ways, you are not standing in the Light and Life. You are not In Christ. God is not saying this to us, Sin is.

This then can whittle down to that measure of the activity of (small letter) sin. These are all the ways in which an individual, a society, a community, a city, a Nation (this individual-collective sweep is important and necessary to uphold, as we always tend to want to make it highly individualized) is acting in a manner that says (outwardly and inwardly) that they are standing under the Darkness (of the Powers of Sin and Death). BUT (and this is a big but), here is what we encounter over and over and over again in scripture. Small letter “sin” always emerges with two central concerns. The first is the physical distinction that these sins make within a community that has been actively “set apart” for the purpose of declaring and bearing witness to a world that is no longer standing under the Powers of Sin and Death. The concern here is for distinguishing between those who live like they are under the Power of Sin and Death (capital letter Sin), and those who live like they are under the Power of Christ (Light and Life). And hint: this is the tension that every one of us, and every community, and every Nation carries every single day. This is the wrestling that comes with these two Powers standing in contention over us. The great truth presented by the Gospel though is that we are no longer under the Power of Sin and Death, with the call always being “so then, live like it.” This is the freedom the Gospel offers. This is what it means to put Sin (and sin) behind us.

This then arrives with another “but” (an even BIGGER but). There is an internal and external function that exists within the idea of sin we find in scripture that is interconnected. The concern for those who live as though they are under Darkness (The Powers of Sin and Death) is personal (internally concerned with the individual who does not know, cannot believe, is stuck wondering whether they are in fact under the Power of Christ), but this internal focus arrives with a concern for the external (the ways in which our witness can tell others that they are in fact under the Power of Christ and not the Powers of Sin and Death). And this mixture of internal and external focus and concern is never relegated to simply “individualistic” terms. In fact, more often than not the “sin” that scripture speaks to carries a communal and collective context. In this way it is not driven by a question of identity, but rather a question of a broken witness (where our actions tell others that they are not defined by The Power of Christ and instead are defined by the Power of Darkness). And sin always arrives in the context of that larger narrative (the Powers of Sin and Death), which is where we locate this notion of God’s judgment, wrath, justice, righteousness, all words that share in this idea that what is wrong God is making right. The force of Sin then becomes about the oppressed and the oppressor, the in-just and the just actions, the same force that carries through the New Testament in this distinction between the ignorance of the Righteous and the liberation of the lowly. If Sin as a name, it is found in those “hostile words” that tell someone they are not “In Christ”.

It is in this context that we then discover a consistent concern for sin (and Sin) as a matter of exclusion, dissension, disunity, division, and a lack of fellowship, which then raises up Christ as the great unifier and our witness as one that is given to fellowship, inclusion, love and unity as Christ’s unifying work. This is the context for the whole of scripture, any time you find sin referenced, you fill find this attached.

It is with this in mind then that we can understand Colossians in the way I describe above. What you find is a Church that is being called to understand its move from Darkness to Light. They are being set apart so that they can know the truth that they are not under the Powers of Sin and Death. Set apart from what? The community which surrounds them (or that exists within them in the form of division) that lives as though this is not true. And how do they live as though it is not true? Their actions are ‘hostile words’. Here the inference, as is often the case, is that when one lives as though this is not true (that we are under the Power of Christ, not Darkness), the only thing they are left with is Death, which in communities set apart for the Light becomes shaped against the letter of the Law in desperate attempts to know that we are in fact in the Light (the Law which connotes two things- either an understanding of the Jewish context of the Law in which Gentiles (outsiders) are seen as not a part of the covenant heritage, or a confusion of the Gospel set against this movement from Darkness to Light which arrives with those natural questions of “how do I know that I am in the light” and thus that need to measure salvation, God’s saving work, according to some letter of the Law and works that we can define and control).

We find indications of both of these things in Colossians, with the clarity of focus coming in the idea that this confusion, whether it is coming from inside or from outside of their community, is setting them under the judgment of this way of thinking as opposed to the judgment (justice) of God which liberates them. Thus we get this emerging reality- this is (or will be) leading them to a divided witness and a broken fellowship, which is making them feel like they are left under the Darkness.

The ambiguousness of this descriptive of the community they once belonged to (defined according to: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness), and which might or might not still be present in their community, are those things that are being put under the Darkness as they take off the clothes of that identity defining judgment that is being lobbied their way (the judgements that are saying that they aren’t in Christ). And the reason they are being taken off is “because” of their association with “anger, wrath, malice, slander and obscene (destructive) talk. This is where the emphasis lies, and this is the mark of sin that speaks to what the Powers of Sin and Death do in us and in our community. It is this secondary list which leads to the hopeful picture here of doing away with these external, identity shaping distinctives that we so like to spin into matters of sin and salvation, and putting on clothing that stands in direct contrast to the anger, wrath, malice and slander that divides them. This clothing is: compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, forgiveness, all things which are unifying prospects, prospects that build a fellowship according to love, which is where this passage ultimately leads as the summation of this concern and this movement (from Darkness to Light). Love binds EVERYTHING together, and we are KNIT together in LOVE in Christ.

I hope this is clear. Far too often we come to a passage like this as readers (myself included), and in our own need to know that we are in fact in the light and not the darkness, instead of finding this hope in Christ, we turn our focus to our constructs of sin and salvation. We make them and turn them into a law, giving them a face, a voice, a label, a recognizable distinctive so that we can label the sinners as this and saved as that. And what inevitably flows from this is an emphasis on “small” letter sin that we use to judge ourselves (as in our out), and even more so to judge others. What makes matters worse is that we take ambiguous terms like “sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness”, isolate them, put them on a pedestal, and turn them into these particular and specific directives which say “do this or be this” and God will love you, and “don’t do this and don’t be this and God won’t love you.” And then when we attach these things to whatever matter of shape, form and identity that we can find (from types of individuals to cultures and nations and ideas and movements), we can then know what to exclude and include. Which couldn’t be further from this passage’s intent. In fact, once you have walked down this line of thinking far enough, you will inevitably always find yourself as the one who is being condemned by this very same thing (according to the Law or the letter of the Law that you have raised above Christ).

The point of freedom here is Christ. The point of bondage here (the slavery that we find in seeing ourselves as under the Powers of Sin and Death) are the actions that exclude us or others from the Love of Christ by being, by their very nature, anti-love, disunifying and divisive (the hostility they faced in Colossians). Sin always arrives as a social concept, a social concern, not as an individual, identity shaping notion. And it is always concerned with how these social realities limit the reach of the Gospel message. That is how distinguish between the deception and the truth. Wherever it is that we attach these notions of sin to in our own context must be defined by this and this alone. If sin is judged in scripture (which it is), it is ultimately for these reasons.

In the Spirit and Light of this note, where we arrive in this movement from Darkness to Light is in Love. Love unifies. In unity, let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, with Christ being the “word” (3:16) of this Love embodied. This becomes the force and the point of the end of Chapter 3 with its emphasis on the “household” code and the call towards unity and fellowship with and In Christ (and one another), which works to erase the distinctions that hold us bondage. It is with this knowledge then that they are called to “walk in wisdom towards outsiders.” (4:5) Because it is in the wisdom of this kind of knowledge (the mystery that is Christ) that we can then bear witness to the reality of a world that no longer sits under the Power of Darkness, but rather, in God’s justice, has been placed under the Power of Light and Life.